


Safe and Warm

by TheNarator



Series: What Did You Think Was Going To Happen? [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Abuse, Clingy Superheroes, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Gen, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, the team just really want cisco to join ok?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-07 11:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10359525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNarator/pseuds/TheNarator
Summary: When he was nine years old, Cisco Ramon was abducted by the Reverse Flash. At fifteen he escaped, but was promptly recruited by ARGUS to be their weapon against the Flash. When he decided to leave they tried to experiment on him, and once he escaped from them he found himself on the street. Now a new team has need of him, and he'll have to decide if he can trust anyone with his powers again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> partial credit for the existence of this story goes to hedgi, who has been pingponging ideas with me for weeks.

_Iron Heights was different from Arkham Asylum. It wasn’t necessarily more secure, but it didn’t have the facade of comfort that Arkham did. No one could be considered comfortable at either location, but Iron Heights didn’t pretend. It was what it was. A prison._

_Nightwing wasn’t so much greeted as waved inside by a security guard, and then met by a prison warden._

_“I’m here to visit a prisoner,” Nightwing explained. “In the metahuman wing.”_

_“So I heard,” the warden said gruffly, then led the way further inside._

_Nightwing followed him down several dim hallways, past rows of barren cells. Some held prisoners, others did not, but the warden past all of them with equal indifference. They went down a flight of stairs, and the cells changed from dingy rooms with iron bars to tiny, stark white cubes with a clear wall facing the hallway that was definitely not glass._

_“Why do you want to see this guy anyway?” the warden wondered._

_“He has some intel I need,” Nightwing said simply._

_“About what?”_

_“A friend.”_

***

Nightwing crouched on the rooftop, watching the street below. It was deserted, the street lamps either out or flickering, the darkness oppressive and smothering. Distantly he could hear an alarm, probably from a few streets over. A jewelry store had been broken into, but the police wouldn’t be here for a good ten minutes.

There came the sound of footfalls, and then a man came careening around the corner. He had a black mask over his face, and was carrying a large black duffle bag over one shoulder. Close behind him came another man -- no, a boy -- with shoulder length black hair and an oddly overdesigned pair of sunglasses obscuring his eyes. His black pants and jacket had accents of red and yellow, and he wore fingerless black gloves.

“Stop!” called the boy.

Rather than replying, the man pulled a gun from his waistband and, without stopping, fired over his shoulder at the boy.

The boy put out a hand in front of himself, and with a strange resonating sound a blast of energy emanated from his palm. The bullet stopped in midair and shattered, the shards falling harmlessly to the ground.

Before the kid could catch up or fire again, Nightwing leaped down. He landed square on the the thief’s back, flattening to the ground, and then straightened without getting off him.

The boy with the long hair stopped short, staring at the scene before him. “What the-”

Deeming the thief unconscious, Nightwing stepped down. “Nightwing,” he said simply, holding out a hand. “You must be Vibe.”

The kid hesitated a moment before stepping forward and taking it. “Yeah, that’s me. How do you know my name?”

“Been looking for you kid,” Nightwing said simply.

Vibe glanced at the thief, frowning. “I could have handled that guy.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Nightwing assured him. “That’s quite the ability you’ve got there.”

Vibe folded his arms over his chest. It was hard to tell with his eyes hidden behind his shades, but he looked wary. “What’s it to you?”

“You may have heard a little about me,” Nightwing began, but Vibe cut him off with a scoff.

“Yeah, I’ve heard about you. You collect baby superheroes for the Justice League. If you’re here recruiting you’re wasting your breath; I’m not interested.”

“Really?” Nightwing raised an eyebrow. “And where are you living now that’s so cozy?”

“Here and there,” Vibe said vaguely. Nightwing knew perfectly well that meant nowhere.

“I’m not here to recruit you,” Nightwing informed him. “I quit the team.”

“Ideological differences?” Vibe guessed.

“Just needed some time,” Nightwing explained.

Vibe looked skeptical. “To do what?”

“Find you,” Nightwing replied.

His expression definitely wary now, Vibe took a step back. “What do you want me for?”

“You’ve got more abilities than just those blasts,” Nightwing said, taking an answering step forward, “don’t you?”

“I’ve got some tricks,” Vibe hedged.

“One of the things you can do is open the way into the speed force.” It was a statement, not a question.

“You did your homework,” Vibe commented. “What do you want to get into the speed force for?”

“A friend of mine might be trapped there,” Nightwing said.

“This is about Kid Flash,” Vibe realized, eyebrows rising as though his eyes had gone wide. “The old one. I- I thought he just retired again.”

“No,” Nightwing shook his head. “The League think he died, but I think there’s a chance he’s alive.”

“It’s possible,” Vibe conceded.

Nightwing held out a hand again. “I need you to help me find him, and bring him back.”

For a moment, Vibe didn’t answer. He stared at Nightwing, or at least Nightwing assumed he was staring, as though sizing him up. Nightwing weathered his scrutiny, trying to look appropriately serious.

“Alright,” said Vibe tentatively. “I’ll get your friend back. But I need you to do something for me too.”

“Anything,” Nightwing said immediately.

“Good,” a small smile flitted across Vibe’s face, “but if we’re gonna do this, I need some equipment.”

***

“He’s late,” said Artemis, pacing the living room of the League safehouse like a caged tiger. It was a plainly designed room, and the bright green of her uniform stood out starkly against the beige walls and faded furniture.

“He’ll be here,” Dick told her. He was leaning against the wall, the picture of nonchalance, but his eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the front door.

“He’s not late yet,” M’gann piped up, glancing at her watch. “It’s only now 7:00.”

“Then he should be here,” Conner shot her a look. They were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, M’gann straight backed and trying to look small, Conner spread out with one hand clutching the couch’s arm hard enough to crack the wood beneath the upholstery.

“There is nothing we can do but wait,” Kaldur pointed out. He was seated in an armchair, looking at Artemis worriedly. “Impatience will not bring him here any faster.”

“If he’s not here in five minutes I’m-” Artemis began, but trailed off at Kaldur’s disapproving look.

“What?” Dick wondered with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Artemis grumbled. “He’d better be here.”

“Just try to relax,” Dick advised. “He’ll get here when he-”

He was cut off by a knock coming at the door, short and punctuated. Dick started to say something but Artemis lunged for the knob before he could finish, yanking the door ajar to reveal the person on the stoop.

He looked . . . small.

He _was_ small, small and skinny and undersized. She would have put him at about fifteen if Nightwing hadn’t already told her he was seventeen. His hair was long and unkempt, greasy and falling in his dark eyes. They were mostly obscured by his sunglasses, but this close she could see them through the tinted lenses as he stared up at her warily. He was dressed in what was clearly meant to be superhero regalia, but it looked worn and was covered in a thin layer of dust and dirt. It was very obviously the only thing he owned.

“This is the kid that’s going to save Kid Flash?” Artemis asked skeptically.

The kid, Vibe, glared. “You don’t look like much either, Sunshine. How ‘bout next time you buy a whole shirt?”

Artemis opened her mouth to reply, but abruptly Kaldur was at her elbow.

“Please,” he said, taking her arm and drawing her gently out of the way, “come in. We are all very anxious to meet you.”

“Um,” Vibe didn’t seem to know how to reply to that. He made no move to come inside, but instead remained standing on the stoop.

With an exasperated sigh Artemis backed away into the house, and after a moment Vibe hesitantly followed her.

“You’re Artemis,” he said, once Kaldur had closed the door behind him. “Kid Flash’s partner.”

“In the flesh,” Artemis replied. Dick had suggested she dig out her old costume, rather than coming as Tigress. He said it might make Vibe feel more at ease, but the kid didn’t look particularly at ease with anything.

“Good,” said Vibe simply, “I’ll need your help.”

Before Artemis could reply M’gann was up and off the sofa, floating toward Vibe with one hand outstretched. “I’m Miss Martian,” she said cheerfully, giving him a warm smile, “and that’s Aqualad. You already know Nightwing, and the grump over there is Superboy.”

Conner made a noise of protest, but he was still glowering.

“I know who you are,” Vibe told her, not taking the offered hand. “You’re kinda famous.”

“Hopefully not that famous,” Dick joked. “We are supposed to be covert ops.”

Vibe had nothing to say to that, instead turning toward the center of the room.

“You got the equipment I need,” he noted, walking toward the pile of machinery and wires Dick had insisted on setting up on the coffee table. He picked out what appeared to be some kind of headband with a number of wires coming out of it and placed it around his head.

“How is this done?” Kaldur inquired gently.

“We’re going to electrically stimulate my prefrontal cortex until I can establish a connection with the speed force,” Vibe said, sounding like he was reciting from a textbook. “Then we go in, find Kid Flash and pull him out.”

“Is that safe?” Kaldur asked, frowning.

“Not remotely,” Vibe replied dryly.

For a moment Kaldur looked conflicted, then set his face into a grim expression. “You do not need to do this if it will do you injury. Kid Flash would not want that.”

Vibe stared at Kaldur. His expression was a bit difficult to determine, but he looked almost shocked. “I . . . you asked me to do this,” he protested.

“But is it safe?” Kaldur repeated, and Artemis’s heart sank. Of course Kaldur was right, but they were so close . . .

Vibe shook his head. “You’re a hero,” he said. “You don’t do what you do because you want to play it safe. It’s about as dangerous as anything else; I’ll play the odds if you will.”

Kaldur looked at him a moment longer, as though trying to assess his sincerity.

“We get in, find Kid Flash and get out,” Vibe said, and he seemed to be trying to sound reassuring. “Easy.”

Kaldur nodded his assent and stepped back.

“How do we find him?” Artemis wondered.

“We use you,” Vibe replied, holding out a hand to her. “I need a focal object, something to guide the connection. It needs to be something he cares about, so there’s nothing better to use than his girlfriend.”

“How’d you know I was his girlfriend?” Artemis crossed her arms over her chest.

“Wild guess,” Vibe said, completely deadpan. He wiggled his fingers, and Artemis took his hand.

Vibe adjusted the headband with his other hand, then reached down toward a dial on the machine. All of the others clustered in close, but Vibe immediately abandoned the dial and released Artemis to throw up both hands.

“Okay the peanut gallery needs to give me some room,” he snapped.

The team all looked at each other, then backed away.

Artemis held out her hand, and Vibe took it. With his other hand he turned the dial, and the machine began to hum slightly. Vibe sucked in a breath.

For a moment nothing happened, and they all stared at Vibe with baited breath. Then, slowly, the air in the room began to stir. It went from stillness to a light breeze, and then to a high wind, swirling around Vibe and Artemis. Blue energy mingled with the wind until the others were obscured, and Vibe and Artemis were alone in the middle of the vortex. Lightning flashed around them, and Artemis looked wildly around for any sign of Wally.

At first all she could see was a vague silhouette, a far away shadow in the swirling light around her. Then it resolved itself into a familiar profile, and then it was close enough to see the yellow of his suit.

“Wally!” Artemis yelled, uncaring of who heard her, and threw herself toward him.

Suddenly everything -- the wind, the lightning and Wally -- was gone, and Artemis fell flat on her face on the floor.

“What happened?” came Dick’s voice somewhere above her. “Where’s Kid Flash?”

“I saw him!” Artemis replied, and her voice was strangely high and shrill. She hadn’t intended to shout, but it seemed very loud.

“I saw him,” she repeated as she pushed herself to her hands and knees. “He was there.”

Dick came forward and seized her arm, hoisting her to her feet. “What went wrong?”

“She let go of my hand,” Vibe explained as Artemis turned back to him, sounding annoyed. “I lost my focal object and the connection dropped out.”

“Can you get it back?” Dick demanded urgently.

“Yeah, I can get it back,” Vibe pushed his shades up to rub at his eyes, then let them fall back into place. “Just don’t let go until you’ve got a good grip on him next time, okay?”

“I won’t,” said Artemis seriously, then held out her hand. Vibe took it, and Dick backed away.

The vortex came faster this time, the wind picking up more quickly and suffusing with the blue energy sooner. Lightning flashed but Artemis ignored it, looking back where she had last seen Wally. She kept a death grip on Vibe’s hand as her eyes searched the strange landscape.

Eventually she saw the shadow again. As it resolved itself into Wally she saw that he was facing the other direction, his body angled away from her.

“Wally!” she called, reaching out to him. He didn’t move.

“Wally!” she repeated. “Wally it’s me!”

He turned his head slightly toward her, but did not turn around.

She couldn’t go to him without losing contact with Vibe, but she stretched her fingers out as far as she could. If she tried she could almost touch him. He was so close.

“Wally!” she screamed. “It’s me, I’m here!”

At last Wally turned to her. He stared at Artemis, at her outstretched hand, but did not reach back for her. He looked at her as though not really seeing her, like he was looking right through her.

Then suddenly he was falling away, the blue energy fading and the wind dying, and Artemis howled in anguish as he slipped once again out of reach.

This time it was Artemis who rounded on Vibe first.

“What happened?” she demanded. “Why wouldn’t he come to me?”

Vibe drew a ragged breath. “The speed force . . . wants him to stay . . .” he panted. “It might be . . . showing him something. Something more important.”

“More important than me?” Artemis challenged.

“He might be seeing another you,” Vibe said. “He might not know which one is real.”

“Vibe,” said Kaldur’s voice from off to one side, and Artemis turned him, ready to snap at him to be quiet. “Your nose is bleeding.”

A shock went through Artemis at Kaldur’s words. She turned back to Vibe, looked at him and really saw him. He was leaning on the machine, shoulders slumped, breathing hard. Wires were cascading through his hair and around his face. His nose was indeed bleeding.

Vibe wiped at his nose, looking at the blood on his hand as though he were as surprised to see it as Artemis was.

“Yeah,” he said dismissively, wiping away the rest of the blood, “it does that sometimes. Let’s try again.”

“If you need to take a break, we can stop for the evening,” Kaldur suggested.

“No,” Vibe shook his head, “let’s get this done.”

“We can try again tomorrow,” Kaldur offered.

“I can do this!” Vibe shot back. “One more try, let’s-”

“Can you take more people into the speed force?” Dick interrupted.

Vibe frowned. “I guess?” he said. “If you held onto me I might be able to bring you in.”

Dick looked at Kaldur. “You and me have known Kid Flash longer than anyone here,” he said. “We can convince him that we’re real.”

Kaldur nodded, and Vibe gave a weary sigh.

“Three people into the speed force, four out,” he said, then straightened his back and wiped at his nose again. “Easy peasy.”

Artemis once again took Vibe’s hand, and Kaldur and Dick each held onto one of his shoulders. The vortex sprang into existence this time, the wind picking up almost instantly until they were surrounded by swirling blue. Artemis kept her eyes fixed on the distance in front of her, waiting to see the shadow.

“Wally!” she called once she could see him. “Wally look at me!”

“Wally!” Dick yelled, and Kaldur quickly echoed the word.

Wally stared at the four of them, eyes unfocused, frowning vaguely.

“Wally it’s us!” Dick shouted. “It’s your friends!”

“We have come to rescue you,” Kaldur explained. “Take Artemis’s hand and we will bring you home.”

“Artemis?” Wally asked, voice barely audible over the wind.

“It’s me!” Artemis said, stretching out her hand. She was so close . . .

“Hey Kid Flash!” Vibe’s voice came suddenly from behind her. She glanced back, to see him glaring hard at Wally.

“Your friends went to a lot of trouble to get you back, so don’t you dare blow them off. You know what’s real! Now take. Her. Hand!”

Wally’s fingers were cool to the touch as they slipped across Artemis’s palm. She grabbed, clasping his hand in hers, feeling his grip answering her own.

“Pull!” Vibe yelled.

Artemis pulled, throwing herself backward as she yanked Wally toward her. Her feet went out from under her and she fell flat on the floor again, this time on her back, but it was worth it to feel the weight of another body fall on top of her. It was Wally, there, and most definitely not dead. They lay there a moment, both of them panting, until finally Wally raised his head.

“Artemis?” he asked blearily.

“Wally!” She threw her arms around his neck, tugging him back down into her embrace.

“Vibe!” came Dick’s voice from behind her.

Artemis twisted, craning her neck to see Vibe slumped against Dick and Kaldur. He wasn’t just leaning on them, but was sagging limply in their arms, like he couldn’t hold his body upright. Blood was streaming from his nose to trickle down one side of his face, and his eyes were closed.

“Um, guys?” asked M’gann from somewhere above her. “What did we just do?”

***

Bruce Wayne -- or, more accurately, Batman -- liked to monitor things. Any detective knew that more information was always better than less, and as far as he was concerned anything that wasn’t an invasion of privacy was fair game. He needed to know things in order to protect the people he was responsible for, so any information that could be gathered remotely was worth keeping tabs on.

He’d often had occasion to be grateful for his foresight. Now was one of those times.

“Isn’t it fortunate how the team continues to expand?” asked Alfred pointedly as he served dinner.

Bruce gave him a look. “There haven’t been any new members since Static.”

“Oh,” said Alfred, clearly feigning surprise. “I merely assumed, what with the sudden increase in power being used by one of the residential safehouses-”

“Which safehouse?” Bruce demanded, rising immediately.

Upon inspection Bruce realized that Alfred was right; one of the safehouses kept in reserve to be lived in by unattached members of the team had just started using a massive amount of power. This was not someone wandering around turning on lights. Something was going on there.

The zeta tube dropped him two streets away, and within a matter of minutes he was entering through an upstairs window. There was some kind of ruckus coming from downstairs, so he quickly headed for the living room. The sight that greeted him made him grind his teeth.

The six original members of the team were there, all six of them, including Wally. Artemis was sitting on the floor with Wally’s limp form draped across her lap, and M’gann and Conner were hovering nervously around Dick and Kaldur. The two of them were supporting what appeared to be the unconscious body of a kid he didn’t recognize.

When Dick noticed him he immediately transferred the kid’s weight to Kaldur and straightened, facing his old mentor. Bruce gave him a look that conveyed a very clear order: _Explain._

“His name’s Vibe,” Dick said without hesitation. “He helped us get Wally back but he did it by running an electric current through his brain.”

“And you let him?” Bruce demanded. Dick offered no answer, a guilty look on his face, and Bruce pushed past him. He knelt beside Vibe and placed two fingers to the side of his neck.

“He has a pulse,” Kaldur informed him, “but it’s weak.”

“Will he be alright?” M’gann asked anxiously.

“It’s too soon to say,” Bruce told her. “He needs medical attention.”

“They both do,” Artemis added, proffering the speedster in her arms. Bruce could now see that Wally too was unconscious.

“Bring them both,” Bruce commanded. Conner took Vibe from Kaldur, lifting him as easily as if he weighed nothing, and M’gann telekinetically levitated Wally into the air.

They all made their way to the roof and headed for the zeta tube, M’gann flying ahead with Wally and Conner making great leaps to follow close behind her. The remaining team members lagged behind with Bruce, and after a few moments Dick fell into step beside him.

“I’m sorry,” he offered.

“Don’t apologize to me,” Bruce said coldly. He’d known that Dick was broken up about the death of his friend, but he’d never have suspected him of a thing like this.

“Please tell me we didn’t just trade this kid’s life for Wally’s,” Dick asked urgently.

“I hope not,” Bruce replied, and kept running.

Once they reached the hospital both Vibe and Wally were transferred to the care of the doctors Bruce payed to keep the top floor available for members of the League. The team were banished to the waiting room to ruminate on the events of the night. M’gann curled up small in a chair, and Conner began to pace agitatedly. Artemis sat near the window and stared out at the street below, Kaldur took a seat and closed his eyes as though deep in thought, and Dick buried his head in his hands.

“Where did you five get an idea like this?” Bruce wanted to know.

Dick sat up, then looked away. Bruce waited, letting the silence weigh on all of them.

“The Reverse-Flash,” Dick confessed.

“And you listened to him?” Bruce challenged.

“You get intel from villains all the time,” Dick protested.

“But I always keep in mind where it came from,” Bruce reminded him. “It didn’t occur to you that he might have had an ulterior motive?”

“Vibe wanted to do it,” Artemis cut in. “He kept insisting-”

“But we are the adults,” Kaldur reminded her gently. “He is a child. It is our responsibility to keep control of the situation. Tonight, we lost it.”

“You did,” Bruce agreed. “Now you need to pray that the kid wakes up.”

***

Dick sat in the waiting room trying not to let his thoughts become circular. How could he have done this? Because Wally was trapped. How could he have put Wally’s life above Vibe’s? Because Vibe had insisted. How could he have listened to a 17 year old who wasn’t even interested in joining the team to get off the streets, exhibiting clearly self-destructive behavior? Because he wasn’t thinking clearly. Why wasn’t he thinking clearly? Because Wally was trapped.

No matter how much he thought about it, the hard truth remained. He had prioritized his grief over the life of a vulnerable kid. He may well have gotten Vibe killed.

Dick shook his head to clear it. There was no point laying blame until they found out how bad the situation was. Vibe might still be alright. He _would_ be alright. He was too strong to be taken down by something like this. When he woke up Dick would lay all his cards on the table. He’d convince Vibe to join the team and then he would never, _ever_ let this happen again.

They had been there most of the night, not talking to each other, sitting silent vigil over Wally and Vibe. The horrible thing was that Wally was still in danger too; if he died, all of this would have been for nothing. Conner kept getting up to pace back and forth, and M’gann’s eyes followed him as he moved. Kaldur had been in the same chair all night, but he couldn't seem to decide where to look, and kept staring into space in different directions. Artemis hadn’t moved since Wally had disappeared into the depths of the hospital, gazing out the window as though the street below held all the answers she was looking for.

Then, around 4:00 in the morning, the door to the waiting room finally opened.

“Kid Flash is stable,” a pretty doctor with brown hair assured them when they clustered around her. “He’s woken up and would like to see you.”

A wave of relief swept over Dick, followed immediately by guilt. This was no time to be celebrating.

“And Vibe?” he asked urgently.

“Also stable,” the doctor said, then frowned. “He hasn’t woken up yet though. He had a mini-stroke-”

“A stroke?” Dick repeated in alarm.

“A mini-stroke,” she corrected. “He should be fine, but we’ll know more when he wakes up.”

“May we see him?” Dick inquired.

The doctor blinked at him. “He’s not awake yet. He won’t-”

“I want to sit with him,” Dick explained. “I should be there when he wakes up.”

“I’ll come too,” Artemis said hurriedly.

“No,” Dick shook his head, “you guys go see Wally. He just came back from the dead, he needs you right now.”

“Vibe needs us too,” Artemis put a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “Don’t you want-”

“I’ll stay with him,” said Bruce, abruptly materializing at Dick’s shoulder. He was well trained enough not to flinch, but only just.

The doctor nodded, and led the way to Vibe’s room.

“Where’ve you been?” Dick asked as they walked, trying not to sound accusatory.

“I had to inform the League,” Bruce explained. “This little stunt is going to cost you a lot of their faith.”

“I accept that,” Dick said.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew about a homeless teenage superhero running around Opal City?” Bruce wanted to know.

Dick looked away. At the time he hadn’t properly known why he kept putting off mentioning it, but now he realized the reason. He had been afraid that the League would stop him.

“Just slipped my mind I guess.”

Bruce gave him a look that said he knew exactly what Dick was thinking.

“You can’t just leave him out there,” Bruce pointed out.

“I don’t intend to,” Dick promised.

“Here we are,” piped up the doctor.

They had arrived at a nondescript door, exactly like every other nondescript door on the hallway. The doctor turned to go, and Dick pushed it open.

“Ma’am,” Dick immediately called after her, “are you sure this is the right room?”

“Room 608,” she glanced at the number on the door. “This is the right place.”

Dick looked back into the barren hospital room, checking every corner for something he’s missed, but there was nothing. No other door. No window, open or otherwise. No place to hide.

Nevertheless, the bed was empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you like this story leave a comment, then go thank hedgi. seriously, go do it. right now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do not expect all the chapters to come this fast ok i happened to have some free time this week.

“Anything on the security cameras?” Bruce asked, striding purposefully into the room and making Dick reflexively sit up straighter.

Dick pulled up the security footage, indicating the bank of monitors in front of him. “The hospital has cameras at all the entrances and in every major hallway,” he explained. “None of them saw Vibe leaving. I’m guessing the search didn’t turn up anything?”

“Nothing,” Bruce confirmed. “We searched the building and the surrounding two blocks. No sign of him.”

“How could he have gotten out?” Dick asked. “There was no window in his room, no one saw him leave.”

“That’s assuming he left under his own power,” Bruce reminded him. “We can’t rule out that he was taken by someone.”

“You don’t think he could be . . . “ Dick trailed off.

“You have a theory?” Bruce prompted.

“What if he’s . . . where Wally was?” Dick asked. “Inside the speed force?”

“You’d better hope not,” Bruce told him. “If that’s the case, we have no way to get to him.”

Dick clutched at his own hair, willing himself to think. There had to be something he’d missed. Vibe couldn’t be in the speed force. He couldn’t be.

“Assuming he left on his own,” Bruce speculated, “where would he go?”

“I don’t know,” Dick admitted, “I don’t know him that well.”

“You didn’t find out where he was living?” Bruce demanded.

“I didn’t want to wait,” Dick said, not even trying to make excuses.

“Think,” Bruce commanded. “Right now you’re our best resource on this kid. You found him once-”

“That took me weeks!”

“-find him again,” Bruce finished.

Dick forced himself to concentrate, to stop feeling guilty and  _ think _ .

“I was supposed to meet him today,” he remembered. “He was supposed to introduce me to someone.”

“Get to that meeting,” Bruce ordered. “He might be there, or his friend might have a lead.”

Dick nodded, stood, and then caught the back of his chair to steady himself. He was exhausted; he’d been up all night, not to mention the time he’d spent searching for Vibe, and worrying took a lot out of someone.

“Get a few hours sleep first,” Bruce amended, already halfway out the door.

Dick nodded at his retreating back, even though he knew Bruce couldn’t see. Bruce would know, he’d understand, just like he’d understood everything about Dick since they’d first met when he was nine years old. Dick knew why Bruce was so angry, and why he was so desperate to find Vibe. Bruce Wayne had never been one to leave a child in danger, and Dick didn’t plan to carry on his legacy by starting now.

He would get some sleep. Then he would find Vibe.

***

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” Cindy asked for what felt like the hundredth time since Cisco had first come up with this crazy idea.

“It’s for the best,” Cisco assured her, bringing their joined hands to his lips and kissing her knuckles gently.

They were wandering leisurely over the rooftops, the warm sun coming directly down onto them and a cool autumn breeze toying with their hair. They were a little oddly dressed for the main streets below, and it was less likely that their conversation would be overheard.

“Then come with me,” Cindy said, darting out in front of Cisco and walking backwards to face him, their hands still joined. “If it’s for the best then you should do it too.”

“It’s what’s best for _ you _ ,” Cisco corrected, letting Cindy tug him along. “I can’t protect you-”

“I don’t need you to protect me!” Cindy pouted.

“I want to though,” Cisco told her. “I want you protected all the time, and I can’t do that by myself.”

“So you’re going to leave me with a bunch of strangers?” Cindy raised an eyebrow.

“They can watch your back more effectively than I can,” Cisco said patiently, pushing forward so that they were side by side once more. “One of these days you’re going to need more backup than I can give. I want you with a big group when that day comes, people who won’t let you get hurt.”

“You’ve never let me get hurt,” Cindy pointed out.

“My luck’s gonna run out eventually,” Cisco told her.

“Then shouldn’t you be in a big group too?” Cindy asked innocently, twirling a piece of her long curly hair around one finger.

“We’ve been over this,” Cisco said, frowning. “I just can’t, okay?”

“Please,” Cindy wheedled. “We don’t have to split up, this doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

“It’s not goodbye,” Cisco insisted. “It’s not like this will take up all of your time, we can still see each other whenever we want.”

“We could see each other every day if you  _ came with me, _ ” Cindy said pointedly.

Cisco shook his head. “I can’t,” he said, looking away. “I . . . I won’t be anyone’s weapon. I can’t go through that again.”

Cindy paused their walk, turning Cisco to face her. He still wouldn’t look her in the eye, so she leaned in to kiss his furrowed brow. Cisco’s eyes closed as though in profound pleasure, and Cindy smiled to herself. She adored how Cisco responded to her every touch as though she were giving him a gift.

“The Justice League are the good guys,” she said quietly. “You told me that when I first came to this dimension. Can’t you trust them?”

“I trust them with the most precious thing in my life,” Cisco leaned in and rubbed his nose against Cindy’s. “But there are some things that aren’t about trust. They’re about what’s smart.”

“Living on the streets is smart?” Cindy asked.

“No,” Cisco admitted, “but neither is putting myself up to get used again, or worse. If they knew how powerful I really was? They’d lock me up, bae, they might not even let me live.”

“You honestly believe that?” Cindy wanted to know.

“I don’t know,” Cisco shook his head slightly, “but I do know I’m not going to risk leaving you. Not ever.”

“No,” Cindy confirmed, “you’re just going to make me leave you.”

“I’ll hang out by the entrance every day,” Cisco promised. “This isn’t goodbye, really.”

Cindy stared into his eyes, trying to look as desperate as she could. She needed him to understand how much this hurt. Cisco leaned in, until their lips were almost touching.

“Nothing can keep us apart, baby,” his whispered, then kissed her.

Once that was done and Cindy’s head was spinning, Cisco drew back. He unclasped their hands and immediately threw one arm around Cindy’s shoulders.

“Come on,” he said, “we’re almost there.”

Looking out over the edge of the rooftop into the alley where Cisco had arranged to meet Nightwing Cindy could see that he was already there.

“He’s early,” she noted, “and he’s waiting out in the open.”

“That doesn’t seem like him,” Cisco frowned. “Last time he practically ambushed me.”

“Let’s be careful,” she said. “This guy’s put you in the hospital once.”

“That wasn’t his fault,” Cisco grumbled.

“I still owe him a fat lip,” Cindy insisted.

Nightwing might have been waiting in the open, but he definitely wasn’t happy about it. The line of his shoulders was tense, and his face was set in a grim expression. She had turned herself invisible, so when Cisco pointedly scuffed his shoe on the ground as they entered the alley Nightwing turned to see only Vibe standing alone.

“Vibe,” Nightwing said, and as Cindy watched the tension in his shoulders eased somewhat. “Good to see you’re alright.”

“Is Kid Flash okay?” Cisco deflected.

“He’s fine,” Nightwing told him. “What was with the disappearing act? You had us worried.”

“I don’t like hospitals,” Cisco deadpanned.

“Noted,” Nightwing said. “Next time I’ll-”

The very idea that Nightwing planned for there to be a ‘next time’ Cisco needed medical attention around him was enough to make Cindy decide that now was the time to make her move. She leaped forward, taking advantage of the fact that he couldn’t see her to wind up her attack, then punched him square in the jaw.

Nightwing went reeling, but instinct caught him before he could hit the alley floor. He came back up in a fighting stance and Cindy aimed another punch at his teeth. This time when it connected Nightwing grabbed her arm, using it to swing her around and throw her to the ground.

“Don’t hurt her!” Cindy dimly heard Cisco yell as she sprang back to her feet, letting the illusion drop so she was visible again. She kicked out at his stomach and he blocked her, but he wasn’t quick enough to block the second kick that connected solidly with the side of his head. Cindy pushed off him, did a flip in midair, and landed on her feet. 

She and Nightwing circled each other, each of them waiting for an opening. He didn’t seem to want to attack her, and that was fine with Cindy. She was perfectly willing to do all the attacking.

“You wanna tell me why you jumped me?” Nightwing invited, not letting his guard down.

“Auditioning,” Cindy explained simply, then attacked again.

They traded blows, Cindy mostly hitting and Nightwing mostly blocking. Cindy couldn’t help but think that it had something to do with Cisco’s command, but Nightwing wasn’t about to let her hurt him either. Eventually though he seemed to decide that this tactic wasn’t getting him anywhere. He struck out at her, but she merely used his momentum to throw him to the ground.

“Alright,” Nightwing held up his hands in surrender, “game over. You’ve proved your point.”

Cindy stopped, panting, then offered him her hand. He took it, and she pulled him to his feet. 

“So?” Cindy put her hands of her hips, staring at Nightwing expectantly. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was anxious to know what he thought of her skills.

“You’re good,” he told her, smiling knowingly. “If you want a place on the team, it’s yours.”

Behind her Cindy heard Cisco breath a sigh of relief. She turned, shooting him a glare for doubting her.

Nightwing’s focus had also shifted to Cisco. “There’s one for your too,” he said, “if you want it.”

“Thought you said you didn’t find me to recruit me,” Cisco reminded him.

“That was before you saved Kid Flash,” Nightwing explained. “You almost died saving a member of my team-”

“Your team?” Cisco raised an eyebrow. “You rejoin since two nights ago?”

“Yes,” said Nightwing, without a hint of shame, “and I want you to join too.”

“I told you,” Cisco said. “Not interested.”

“You could get off the street,” Nightwing told him. “We have places for you to live.”

“I’m a little too independent for a dorm,” Cisco informed him coolly. He was still wearing his shades, but familiarity meant that Cindy knew his eyes had grown hard.

“It beats an abandoned building,” Nightwing argued.

“I’ll decide that for myself,” Cisco snapped. “I’m not joining your little superhero social club.”

“Not a club,” Nightwing shook his head, “a team. A team who watch each other’s backs, a team that makes a difference-”

“Not interested!” Cisco cut him off. “I get it, I saved your friend and you’re grateful, but the way you pay me back is to protect Charmer. That was the deal.”

“You almost died for us,” Nightwing pointed out.

“No,” Cisco shook his head, then glanced at Cindy. “I almost died for her.”

Nightwing narrowed his eyes, but nodded his understanding. “You’ll come to us if you need anything?”

“No,” Cisco shook his head, “this is where we go our separate ways.”

“I can’t just leave you out here,” Nightwing insisted. “You’re just a kid.”

Cindy saw the look on Cisco’s face and decided now was the time to chime in. “Leave it,” she advised Nightwing. “You’re not going to change his mind.”

Nightwing looked pained, but Cisco glared. At last Nightwing looked back at Cindy. “Come on,” he held out a hand, “let’s introduce you to the team.”

***

As Dick lead Charmer -- Cindy, as she had introduced herself once they were away -- back to the zeta tube he couldn’t help but feel like a failure. He had not managed to convince Vibe to join the team, as he’d promised Bruce he would. Wally’s savior was still living on the street, and winter was fast approaching. He couldn’t do this; he couldn’t leave Vibe to fend for himself. It wasn’t the heroic thing to do.

“You never really had a chance you know,” Cindy offered, pulling Dick from his thoughts. “I begged him to come with me, but he wouldn’t budge. He doesn’t want to join the team.”

“Why?” Dick asked. “What’s his hang up?”

Cindy hesitated a moment, as though wondering how much to say. “He’s scared,” she said at last, not looking at him.

“Of what?” Dick pressed. “Whatever it is I promise he’s got nothing to worry about. We take care of our own-”

“I won’t say any more,” Cindy shook her head, “but just know it’s not you, it’s him. He’s got . . . a lot of history.”

“I figured,” Dick told her. “Just about everyone on the team has history.”

“Not like him,” Cindy protested.

“You’d be surprised,” Dick replied.

Once he had her programmed into the system, Dick and Cindy took the zeta tube up to the watchtower. As Dick had expected word had spread; everyone was gathered on the main floor, the entire team plus a good chunk of the League. Bruce stood on the sidelines, and his eyes narrowed when he caught sight of Dick.

“Everyone,” Dick called, leading Cindy to the center of the room. “This is Charmer. She’s going to be joining the team.”

A murmur went through the crowd, and Dick didn’t have to hear to know what everyone was talking about. He glanced at Cindy, and judging by her expression she knew it too. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for her; she was starting her time on the team in an awkward position.

“Not that we’re not thrilled to meet her,” came La’gaan’s voice rising above the others, “but where’s the guy who saved Kid Flash?”

“Vibe opted to stay in Opal City,” Dick explained, then glanced at Bruce, “but he’s safe.”

“He’s not coming?” Artemis asked in disbelief. “Why not?”

“He’s not ready to join the team,” Dick said.

“Wally wants to see him,” Artemis insisted, “and so do I. We owe him everything.”

Before Dick could reply, Cindy stepped forward. “As time permits, I’ll be seeing him regularly,” she said diplomatically. “I’d be happy to deliver any messages for anyone here.”

As the team began to cluster around Cindy, Dick began to back away toward the side of the room. Bruce, curiously, did not try to follow him, and Dick couldn’t think of why until his back collided with something solid.

“Avoiding Bruce?” guessed Barry when Dick turned to face him.

Dick glanced over at where Bruce had been, but he was gone. “Kinda, yeah.”

“I can’t imagine he’s happy Vibe didn’t come with you,” Barry speculated, also scanning the crowd for the familiar pointed cowl. “I’m not too pleased with it myself.”

“I’m sorry,” Dick said. “I tried-”

“Not your fault,” Barry waved away Dick’s apology. “If the kid doesn’t want to come we can’t force him. Still, I hate to leave him on the street like that.”

“I’ll keep tabs on him,” Dick promised. “See what I can do about discreetly sending some resources his way.”

“Good plan,” Barry nodded. “Come to me if you need any help. I . . .  owe the kid a lot.”

“We all do,” Dick told him.

Barry shook his head. “Not like me. I didn’t even consider that Wally might be alive, that he might need my help. I . . . I left him there.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Dick said.

Barry gave a crooked smile. “Watch me.”

Dick could understand Barry’s guilt. Barry had watched Wally disintegrate, had watched what he believed to be the death of his nephew. He’d believed Wally to be dead for six months, then found out that there was something he could have done all along. A kid had nearly died doing what Barry hadn’t, and now he felt responsible.

“I should see what I can do for the kid myself,” Barry said, half to himself. “Maybe if I drop in on him I could change his mind.”

At that, Dick grinned. “I think he’s going to be getting plenty of drop ins.”

Barry blinked, looking at Dick quizzically.

“Why do you think I told the team he was in Opal City?”

***

Patrol just wasn’t the same without Cindy, Cisco thought. Of course they’d patrolled the city separately before, but she was never very far away, and they always met up afterwards. Now he had no idea where Cindy was, and no idea when he’d see her again.

As much as he’d said it wouldn’t be goodbye, he knew being on the team would take up much of her time. For the past two days he hadn’t seen her at all, despite spending most of the day napping by the entrance to the zeta tube. He didn’t really sleep anymore, just dozed whenever he could find a safe corner to do so. The zeta tube entrance was in a junkyard, so there were plenty of places to hide. Every so often members of the team would come out, but they never saw him.

Cisco shook his head to clear it. There was no point thinking about Cindy now. He had to concentrate on the dark street below, keeping one eye on it as he navigated the rooftops. He had to remain vigilant. He couldn’t afford to let anything get past-

“How’s it going?”

Cisco let out a little yelp and spun around, to see a kid maybe a few years younger than himself standing innocently behind him. He wore a red and tan suit, tinted goggles, and a bright, eager smile.

“What the hell?” Cisco snapped, glaring.

The kid didn’t seem perturbed by Cisco’s glare. “Didn’t mean to startle ya,” he said, his words coming out in a rush but his grin still fixed in place.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to sneak up on people?” Cisco demanded, clutching at his heart.

“Wasn’t trying to sneak,” the kid replied, then held out a hand. “Name’s Impulse.”

“Sounds familiar,” Cisco admitted. He did not take Impulse’s hand. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to see you!” Impulse said excitedly. “Vibe, here in the flesh! This is so crash!”

“Is it?” Cisco blinked.

“Dude, it’s totally crash,” Impulse informed him. “You saved Kid Flash! You’re like-”

“Did Nightwing send you?” Cisco interrupted. He had a bad feeling about this kid.

“Nope,” Impulse shook his head. “Came on my own.”

“Why?” Cisco demanded.

“I wanted to meet you!” Impulse said excitedly. “The whole team’s curious about you!”

“Great,” Cisco grumbled.

Impulse didn’t seem to notice. “Why Opal City?” he asked, his words coming very fast. “How long you been here? Are you gonna stay when you join the team?”

“This is where I ended up when I left the last place I was,” Cisco said flatly, “about six months, and I’m not joining the team.”

Impulse looked suddenly disappointed. “What? No, you gotta-”

“I don’t ‘gotta’ do anything,” Cisco corrected.

“But you’re a superhero!” Impulse protested. “Don’t you wanna be on the fast track to the JL?”

“I don’t want to join the League either,” Cisco told him.

“Why not?” Impulse whined, actually  _ whined _ . “Not crash dude, not crash.”

“I don’t think that word means what you think it means,” Cisco said.

“The League is like the who’s who of all the greatest superheroes!” Impulse went on as though Cisco hadn’t spoken. “You’d get to work with Batman and Wonder Woman and hey, don’t forget the Flash-”

“I don’t want to work with the Flash!” Cisco snapped, and it probably came out a little too vehemently because Impulse actually stepped back as though in alarm. Cisco took a breath and tried again.

“I don’t want to work with the Flash,” he said more calmly, “or any of them. I just want to be left alone.”

“But-” Impulse halted, looking confused and even a little hurt. “You’re one of us.”

“I’m not,” Cisco said firmly, “so get the idea out of your head.”

Impulse continued to look like a kicked puppy for a few more moments, staring mournfully up at Cisco. Cisco stood his ground, hands on his hips, trying to keep a stern expression on his face.

Then suddenly Impulse brightened, and Cisco’s heart sank as the bright grin fixed itself back in place.

“You don’t feel welcome on the team,” Impulse concluded, with the air of someone who’d just come to a brilliant realization. “Understandable, all things considered. I’ll fix that.”

“What,” Cisco sputtered, “no, that’s not-”

“Just gotta get some of the others to help,” Impulse went on, half to himself. “Blue would love to meet you, and-”

“Don’t you dare involve anyone else!” Cisco commanded, but he had a feeling it was already too late.

“Gotta go,” Impulse said suddenly, “lots to do.”

“Wait-” Cisco began, but suddenly there was a rush of wind, and in a red and tan blur Impulse was gone.

It took a long time sitting on that rooftop for Cisco’s heart to stop pounding.

***

“Get back here!” Cisco called, running as fast as he could down the nearly deserted street.

The man he was pursuing, a purse snatcher with an armful of ill-gotten loot, did not do as Cisco had suggested. He kept running, and he was definitely going faster than Cisco. Cisco didn’t particularly want to use his powers on this guy, but if it was the only way make him stop then a gentle tap wouldn’t-

Something whizzed past Cisco’s ear, and abruptly the thief was falling to the ground, his ankles somehow tied together. Cisco stumbled to a stop, then whirled around to see Artemis stepping leisurely out of a nearby alley, lowering her bow and looking very pleased with herself.

“Need some help?” she asked, smiling slyly.

“No,” Cisco snapped.

Artemis gave him a knowing smile that Cisco found infuriating. “Really? Because it looked like-”

“I had in under control,” Cisco said firmly. “I didn’t need you to interfere.”

“I was just trying to lend a hand,” Artemis was dangerously close to laughing and Cisco was dangerously close to firing a blast at her. “We’re all on the same team here.”

“No we are most certainly not on the same team,” Cisco corrected. “You are on your team and I am over here, not on any team at all.”

“I just meant we’re both good guys,” Artemis explained. She had at least stopped smiling.

“That doesn’t mean I want your help,” Cisco told her.

“Um,” the purse snatcher piped up, reminding both of them of his presence as he attempted to sit, “you two seem like you’ve got some stuff to work out. Should I just-”

“No!” Cisco and Artemis said in unison, and the thief laid back down on the ground.

Cisco turned his attention back to Artemis. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Don’t you have very important covert ops to be doing?”

“I was kinda hoping you’d come do them with me,” Artemis said.

“ _ Why? _ ” Cisco wanted to know.

“Maybe because you’re wasting your talents stopping purse snatchers in Opal City?” Artemis speculated.

“Is that what this is about?” Cisco wondered. “Making good use of my powers?”

“No,” Artemis shook her head. “It’s about making you take care of yourself.”

“Why is that your problem?” Cisco asked.

“Because you brought my boyfriend back from the dead,” Artemis said matter of factly.

“Holy shit,” interjected the purse snatcher. They both ignored him.

“You think you owe me something?” Cisco guessed. “Protect Charmer. There’s payment for your debt.”

“It’s not about owing you a debt,” Artemis corrected. “It’s about the fact that you’re a teenage superhero living on the street. We can’t allow that.”

“You can’t allow it?” Cisco repeated. “Does one need a license to superhero now? Do I need a mailing address in order to apply?”

“We can’t leave you out here,” Artemis insisted. “It’s not right.”

“And how morally upright is it to not take into consideration what I want?” Cisco demanded.

Artemis sighed, and for a moment Cisco wondered if he’d won and she’d decided to go away. No such luck.

“Kid Flash wants to see you,” she said at last. “He wants to say thank you, for saving him.”

“Hey now,” said the thief, “I ain’t tryin’ to mess with the Flash-”

“Shut up!” Cisco snapped, then turned his attention back to Artemis. “Charmer already gave me his message. Tell him he’s welcome, but if he really wants to thank me he’ll get his girlfriend off my back.”

Artemis stared at him for a moment as though sizing him up, then shook her head. “If that’s how you feel about it,” she said resignedly, then turned to go.

Cisco was just about to turn his attention back to the purse snatcher when she turned back.

“If you ever change your mind,” she said, “door’s open.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cisco said as sarcastically as he could manage, but before Artemis turned around he could see the knowing smile had returned.

***

“Please,” said a pretty woman in an expensive dress and pearl earrings as she backed up against the alley wall. “Please don’t-”

“Don’t worry,” said her pursuer, a man with a wicked looking knife. “Just hand over your jewelry and we can both be on our way.”

“You might want to rethink that,” Cisco interjected, stepping out of the shadows.

The man with the knife turned to him, and suddenly went pale. Cisco blinked. He knew perfectly well he didn’t look like much; usually he had to use his powers to get that reaction.

“It’s . . . it’s . . .” said the man, pointing at Cisco. “It’s Blue Beetle!”

“Blue Beetle?” Cisco echoed in confusion, but suddenly his hair was ruffled by what sounded like a sonic blast going over his head.

The man was knocked backwards against the far wall, sliding down it to land in a crumpled heap on the ground. Cisco whirled around to see a boy perhaps his own age or a bit younger, dressed head to toe in blue and black armor hovering a few feet in the air behind him. Out of his shoulders sprouted a pair of insectoid wings, which tucked into his back as he landed. One hand had been turned into some kind of blaster, but as Cisco watched it disassembled itself and melded seamlessly back into his arm.

“You’re safe now ma’am,” said the boy who Cisco could only presume was Blue Beetle.

“Thank you,” said the woman, coming forward with a look of profound relief on her face. Then she glanced at Cisco. “Who’s your friend?”

“No one,” Cisco spat, then turned and stomped out of the alley and onto the main street.

He was half a block away when Blue Beetle caught up with him.

“Hey!” he called, his wings humming as he drew level with Cisco. “Why’d you take off like that?”

“Clearly I wasn’t needed,” Cisco ground out, keeping his eyes front. He hoped that if he didn’t look at Blue Beetle maybe he would just go away.

Beetle was apparently not on board with that plan. He pulled ahead, then landed directly in Cisco’s path, forcing him to stop short or crash into the other boy.

“What’s your problem ese?” Beetle demanded.

“My problem is the entire Junior Justice League lining up to stick their noses in my personal business!” Cisco exploded. “What do you think you’re going to accomplish here? Bullying me onto your team?”

“No one’s trying to bully you ese,” Beetle said in distress. “We just want you to be safe.”

“Nothing is safe about what we do,” Cisco reminded him.

“It’s safer if we do it together,” Beetle pointed out.

Cisco growled in frustration. “What’s it going to take for you to go away?”

Beetle seemed to consider this for a moment. “Let me buy you a burger?”

Cisco opened his mouth to refuse, but his stomach chose that moment to loudly announce its dissatisfaction with that idea. He glared down at his belly, offended by its timing.

“Come on,” Beetle said. “When was the last time you ate?”

A while, Cisco had to admit. He weighed his options. Cisco knew better than anyone that there was no such thing as a free lunch; there would be a lecture, more wheedling, and the bitter admittance of Blue Beetle’s point. On the other hand, food. He could have a decent meal, or he could have his pride.

“Fine,” Cisco said. “But don’t expect a return of investment.”

“No strings,” Beetle held up a hand as though making a pledge.

Big Belly Burger was amazingly chill with serving a teenager in power armor. As Cisco waited outside Beetle went in and was served like any other customer, albeit with a surprised look from the girl behind the counter. A few people stared and one little boy asked for his autograph, but he managed to get in and out remarkably unmolested.

“That was less disastrous than I thought it would be,” Cisco noted as Beetle alighted on the roof. Cisco climbed the last few steps on the fire escape and sat down cross-legged, leaning his back against the short wall surrounding the edge.

“I’m not sure if you saw, but I was on TV a lot for a while,” Beetle replied. “People are grateful for what I did. What I do.”

“I don’t watch much TV,” Cisco hedged, willing Blue Beetle not to ask why. He did not.

Beetle handed over the food and Cisco tore into it, hoping that if he kept his mouth full the other boy would be too polite to talk to him. Beetle watched him quietly for a moment, then apparently decided he didn’t care whether Cisco’s mouth was full or not.

“Why do you live out here?” he asked.

Cisco swallowed his mouthful of french fries. “Here comes the lecture,” he sighed.

“It’s just a question,” Beetle said, as though trying to sound reasonable.

“I’m guessing you have some ideas about where I should be living?” Cisco speculated. “A team safehouse maybe?”

“I’m just wondering why you don’t live at home,” Beetle clarified.

Cisco blinked. He hadn’t expected that line of questioning. He hadn’t really thought about  _ home _ in a while, actually, and having it brought up unexpectedly . . . hurt.

“I mean, you’re seventeen,” Beetle went on when Cisco didn’t answer, “so it makes sense for you to still be living with your parents. Unless they’re, you know, gone or something.”

“No,” Cisco shook his head, “they’re still around. At least I think.”

“You don’t know?” Beetle asked, sounding confused.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen them,” Cisco admitted.

“Why?” Beetle wanted to know. “Why don’t you live with them?”

Cisco looked away. “It’s too dangerous, for them. I have enemies-”

“We can help you protect them, if that’s what you want,” Beetle offered. “That way you could go home, get off the street.”

“As long as I join the team,” Cisco finished for him.

Beetle shook his head. “No,” he said, “no strings, really. You don’t have to join, just let us help you.”

“No,” Cisco said, without elaboration. The very thought of going home made his stomach turn. “Thank you, though.”

Beetle seemed to sense that Cisco didn’t want to say any more, because he stood up and extended his wings. “If you change your mind-”

“I’m sure one of you will be along shortly,” Cisco groused.

Beetle looked at him a moment longer, as though wondering if he should say something else. Then he seemed to decide against it and took off into the sky.

***

It was Bart, obviously, who had told the team Vibe’s location.

It didn’t take too much running around the city to find him, even if it was sheer dumb luck that Bart stumbled across him. Bart had watched from a distance for a while until he’d learned the patrol route, then approached Vibe himself. The older boy was jumpy and on edge, clearly nervous around Bart despite his power and his age. Bart did his best to be friendly, but Vibe would not calm down. He reminded Bart of nothing so much as the people he’d known in the future: cagey, as though used to being trapped, and defensive around strangers.

“He’s afraid,” Bart reported to the others. “We need to show him we’re not a threat.”

“How?” Jaime asked.

“We talk to him,” Bart said.

Thus began the campaign to familiarize Vibe with the team. They decided that it was best they approach him one at a time, so they decided on an order and started going to visit. Artemis went first, since he knew her already, and Jaime volunteered to go next. Bart decided that he should visit Vibe every so often to gauge how he was coming around, so he decided to visit again after Jaime.

He hadn’t exactly told Dick about his exploits, but he was almost sure the team leader would have approved. Kaldur also was not included, but Bart had heard him telling Charmer to pass along his concern, so Bart figured neither of them could object.

“Are we sure this is okay?” asked Cassie as they’d prepared for Jaime’s visit.

“Course it is!” Bart had assured her brightly. “What could go wrong?”

When Jaime managed to get Vibe to sit down at eat with him, Bart was optimistic. He had tracked Vibe’s hiding spot to an abandoned building a few blocks from the zeta tube, and he planned to drop in on him before he went to bed for the day. He was sure that Vibe would be calmer around him this time. This time would be better.

Unfortunately, this time he found Vibe passed out on a dirty mattress, bleeding profusely from a deep gash in his side.

“Blue,” Bart said hurriedly into his communicator, “get here fast. We got a problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise i'm not going to end every chapter with cisco needing medical attention. please comment and then go thank hedgi for helping me plan this out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like, a little under half the dialogue in this chapter was written by hedgi. go thank her.

Cisco returned to consciousness by slow degrees. The first thing he registered was the pain in his side, which brought back the memory of a dark alley and a long knife. The creep had gotten the drop on him, due mostly to his own carelessness. He’d been thinking about how much he missed Charmer, but the moment he felt the pain he’d turned and reflexively blasted the guy against the nearest wall. Then he’d stumbled back to an abandoned building he knew was relatively safe and collapsed. He wasn’t sure how long ago that was, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it, so he resolved to rest. He was still exhausted.

The second thing he noticed was how soft the thing he was laying on was. He dimly remembered it being a mattress, old and dirty, but the thing under him felt oddly smooth for a bare mattress without a sheet. There was something over him too, also soft, keeping him warm. He decided after a little contemplation that someone had taken pity on him and thrown an old blanket they’d found somewhere over him, and so he didn’t move.

The third thing he noticed was the smell, and that pinged to him as wrong. The smell of an abandoned building where many homeless people lived was generally unpleasant, but this place smelled good. It smelled like clean sheets and scented things, maybe candles, and something baking in another room. That was wrong. Was he dreaming?

The fourth thing he noticed was what made him open his eyes, and that was the sound. Or more accurately, the lack of sound. There were no cars on the streets outside, no rustling and shuffling of many people moving, no sounds of the city at all. The only noise was was the ticking of a clock, and he knew damn well that no abandoned building had clocks on the walls. Something was definitely wrong.

Blearily Cisco opened his eyes. He was in some kind of room, a bedroom in what looked to be an actual house. The walls were painted and it wasn’t peeling or stained. The ceiling wasn’t dripping. He was lying in a bed, with a comforter pulled over him.

Cisco panicked.

He began to struggle wildly to sit up, fighting his body’s exhaustion to get himself upright. He was not tied down, as he had been anticipating, so the force of his movement launched him out of the bed. He landed on the floor in a heap and scrambled to get his feet under him, looking around for a door or a window. There was a window on the opposite side of the bed, and between him and the only door was Nightwing, sitting in a chair and straightening as though he’d been slumped forward onto the bed.

“Kid,” said Nightwing urgently, holding up both hands, “relax. You’re safe.”

“Where am I?” Cisco demanded. He struggled to a crouch and then shuffled backwards.

“Team safehouse,” Nightwing answered. “Superboy’s place.”

Cisco’s back hit the wall. “Why did you bring me here?”

“You’re hurt,” Nightwing explained. “We needed to-”

At that point, Nightwing was interrupted by a noise outside the bedroom door.

***

When Bart had called and demanded he get somewhere fast, Jaime had expected a lot of things. A fight, mostly, but it might have been evidence of some crime that needed investigation. He did not expect to find Bart struggling under the weight of Vibe, who was unconscious and bleeding profusely from a wound in his side.

Between the two of them they managed to get Vibe to the nearest zeta tube, but from there it was a question of where to take him. According to Nightwing he didn’t want to go to a hospital, and neither of them would be able to treat the wound themselves. They needed a senior member of the team. Finally they’d settled on Conner.

With Mount Justice destroyed, many of the team that had been living there full time had moved to the newly built residential wing of the Hall of Justice. Conner, however, had opted to claim one the League’s many safehouses as his residence. Bart and Jaime decided that their best bet was to go there.

Conner had promptly taken Vibe off their hands and set him up in the guest room. Then he had called Dick, who was apparently very handy with a sewing needle and had stitched Vibe up as he lay asleep. Neither Bart nor Jaime wanted to leave, but they were banished to the living room while Dick stayed with Vibe in the guest room, and Conner had gone to bed, telling them to wake him if there was any change in Vibe’s condition.

Jaime had just managed to fall asleep in an overstuffed armchair when he was pulled from his doze by voices coming from the guest room. Bart sat up from his position on the sofa, and the two of them looked at each other. Then Bart ran at top speed to Conner’s room, and Jaime went to go check on Dick and Vibe.

“You’re a liar!” Vibe was yelling when Jaime opened the door.

“I’m telling the truth,” Dick insisted. “We just wanted to treat your wound.”

“I’m not going to be your guinea pig,” Vibe spat. “You’ll have to kill me if you want-”

“No one’s talking about killing anyone,” Jaime protested.

Vibe’s eyes snapped onto him. They were wide and -- Jaime felt a pang in his heart -- absolutely terrified.

“I won’t work for you either!” Vibe shook his head vehemently. “I won’t be a weapon, not again.”

Abruptly Bart zipped into the room, coming to a stop beside Jaime. “Dude,” he said, “what’s all the yelling about?”

“ _We only want to help_ ,” said Jaime, in Spanish, hoping that Vibe might find it soothing.

If Vibe did find it soothing, he didn’t show it. “Get away from me!” he commanded when Dick took a tentative step forward.

Bart zipped to Jaime’s other side, closer to where Vibe was crouched. “So,” he said, giving Jaime a quizzical look, “what's with-”

At that point Vibe interrupted him by firing a blast, not unlike Jaime’s sonic blasts, out of the palm of his hand. Bart squeaked and zipped back to his original position by the door, narrowly avoiding getting hit.

“Watch it!” he said indignantly.

“Stay back!” Vibe warned, the same hand stretched out in front of him as though preparing to fire again. “Just because you managed to kidnap me doesn’t mean I’ll be easy to control!”

Bart began hastily explaining the situation, but his superspeed kicked in and his words started coming too fast for Jaime to make them out. Vibe stared at him, brow furrowed in confusion but no less afraid.

(" _The Vibe seems to be unstable, Jaime Reyes,”_ ) piped up the scarab. ( _“Recommend immediate action. Suggested tactic: eliminate him.”_ )

“No one’s eliminating anyone!” Jaime said firmly, gripping his wrist with his other hand as he felt his plasma blaster fighting to come out.

“Vibe, you need to calm down,” Dick said, demonstratively lowering his hands toward the floor.

“I need to get out of here,” Vibe looked wildly around the room, eyes going from the door to the window and back again.

“Not in your condition,” Dick told him. “Look, you’ve ripped your stitches.”

Vibe was indeed bleeding again from the wound in his side. He clutched at it with his free hand, red seeping between his fingers.

(“ _The Vibe is losing blood at an inadvisable rate,_ ”) the scarab interjected.

“I know!” Jaime replied. Vibe switched his attention to Jaime, still confused and still terrified.

As Bart continued to talk at roughly a mile a minute, Jaime tried again. “ _Hermano,”_ he said in Spanish, “ _you’re bleeding out. You need help.”_

“At what cost?” Vibe demanded English. “I won’t let you use me! I’m not-”

“Enough!” came a loud voice from just outside the door. Everyone in the room stopped talking and turned to see Conner standing in the doorway, his expression grim and serious. He strode purposefully into the room and pushed past Dick until he was looming over Vibe.

“You were brought here because you got hurt,” he explained, plainly but firmly. “No one’s going to make you do anything and you can leave whenever you want.”

Vibe looked down at his wound, then back at Conner. He still looked scared, but there was a fragile sort of hope in his eyes. “Really?”

Jaime made a decision. As the scarab vociferously protested he deactivated his armor, taking a few tentative steps forward. Vibe had lost his goggles in the confusion, they were likely back at the abandoned building, and Jaime felt it only fair that someone else be equally exposed. Vibe watched him warily, but allowed him to approach.

Jaime crouched down in front of Vibe. “You said you didn’t want to be a weapon,” he recalled. “Someone’s made you a weapon before?”

Vibe hesitated, then nodded.

“Me too,” Jaime told him. “The team saved me from being someone’s weapon. We’d _never_ do that to anyone.”

Slowly, leaning on the wall as he did so, Vibe stood up. He looked at Dick nervously. “Where’s Charmer?”

“On a mission,” Dick explained. “She’s undercover, it could be a few days until she gets back.”

Vibe frowned but said nothing. He wobbled over to the bed and sat down, then lifted up his shirt to reveal the wound in his side. As Jaime had expected, more than half the stitches were torn.

“Um,” said Vibe uncertainly, “who-”

“I did them,” Dick informed him. “Let me get some supplies and I’ll sew you back up.”

Jaime and Bart remained in the room with Vibe while Dick went to get a needle and surgical thread, but Conner left without a word. Vibe didn’t look at either of them, opting to stare down at the bedspread.

“So,” Bart drew out the word awkwardly. “You hungry?”

“Um,” Vibe still wouldn’t look at him. “Yeah, I guess. It’s kinda hard to tell with the pain.”

“This should help,” Dick said as he made his way back into the room, holding a first aid kit. In his other hand was a syringe.

Vibe scuttled back onto the bed. “No,” he shook his head, “no drugs.”

“This is gonna hurt,” Dick warned.

Vibe shook his head again.

To his credit, Vibe withstood being sewn up without painkillers pretty well. There was a slight whimper or two when Dick pulled the thread tight, but for the most part Vibe just stared at his side, breathing deeply. When it was over he put his shirt back down with a sigh of relief.

“Now are you hungry?” Bart pressed.

Vibe glanced at him, then looked down, nodding but not making eye contact. Bart raced from the room at top speed and Vibe recoiled, shrinking back against the pillows, and a few seconds later he returned with a tray piled high with junk food.

“Real food Impulse,” Dick said sternly.

“Real food takes time,” Bart objected, then walked to the bed at normal speed. “Start on this.”

Vibe was still looking at him apprehensively, but he took a bag of chips from the pile and opened it carefully. Bart set the tray on the nightstand, then bolted from the room again, presumably to begin preparing whatever he could find in Conner’s fridge. Vibe flinched as he took off, and Jaime filed that away for future reference. He knew the scarab was doing the same.

Jaime sat on the side of the bed. “My name’s Jaime,” he introduced himself. “You?”

Vibe looked him up and down for a moment as though sizing him up. He glanced at Dick, then looked back at Jaime. “Vibe is good for now,” he said at last.

Jaime decided not to be hurt, but rather to take the ‘for now’ as a step in the right direction.

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t give my name,” Dick said, and Vibe inclined his head in understanding.

Vibe looked back and forth between Dick and Jaime, as though not sure which one of them he should be paying attention to. Dick seemed to notice this, as he stood up and excused himself, leaving Jaime and Vibe alone. Jaime began talking about whatever he could think of: his family, school, freeze dried chicken whizzies, and eventually Vibe began to relax. After a while Conner came back just long enough to dump Gar, in cat form, onto the bed. Gar reverted to human shape long enough to groggily introduce himself, then shifted back to curl up in Vibe’s lap and promptly went to sleep. Eventually Bart returned, carrying another tray with even more food, which Vibe tore into like he hadn’t just spent the last half hour eating junk food.

Vibe didn’t talk much during this time, content to sit and listen to Jaime and Bart chattering away. He ate, and made the occasional noise of interest whenever one of them said something exciting, but he did not volunteer any information he was not directly asked for. Every time Jaime tried to steer the conversation onto him it somehow always ended up back on them.

After another half hour or so of Bart talking enthusiastically about an adventure taking down Captain Cold with Barry, the front door of the house opened. Vibe’s eyes went to the door, one hand gripping the blanket tightly, but Jaime put his hand atop Vibe's.

“No one can get in here but members of the team or the League,” Jaime assured him.

Vibe did not look comforted. He jerked his hand away from Jaime’s and went back to staring at the door.

After a few moments Black Canary appeared in the open bedroom doorway and rapped her knuckles on the frame. “Knock knock,” she said, giving Vibe a warm smile. “Mind if I come in?”

Vibe hesitated, as though debating with himself if he did mind if she came in, then nodded slowly. Canary reached back and picked up a kitchen chair that had evidently been hidden behind her, then stepped into the room and set it down at the foot of the bed.

“Impulse, Blue Beetle,” she said. “Do you mind giving Vibe and I a few minutes?”

Jaime and and Bart both stood up from where they’d been sitting on the bed. Jaime considered picking up Gar, but he seemed to be still asleep, and Canary hadn’t mentioned him. Eventually he decided against it, then turned to Cisco.

“You ok _hermano_?” he asked.

“Fine,” Cisco said shortly, not taking his eyes off Canary. “I can handle myself.”

***

As Jaime and Bart filed out Cisco continued to stare at Black Canary. He noticed that she had not bothered to introduce herself; she was a famous Justice Leaguer, and he was no one. She was holding all the cards, and judging by her smug look she knew it. She sat down in the chair, then folded her hands in her lap and looked at him with an almost motherly expression. Cisco didn’t buy it for a minute.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, the picture of innocent concern.

“My side hurts,” Cisco said simply. She was here to probe into his mental state, that much was clear by her therapist posture. He wasn’t about to give her anything.

“And how did that happen?” Canary asked.

Cisco shrugged. “I got careless,” he said. “Won’t happen again.”

“How did it happen this time?” she wondered.

“Like I said,” Cisco replied, frowning, “I got-”

“Were you tired?” she pressed. “Hungry?”

Cisco smile sardonically. “Who isn’t tired these days? And yeah I hadn’t had dinner yet.”

Canary sighed, like she knew full well what Cisco was doing. Not for the first time that evening he had reason to be thankful for his anti-interrogation training. She wouldn’t get him with an obvious line like that.

She tried again. “You don’t have to tell me where, but do you have a safe place to stay when you leave here?”

“Let me guess,” Cisco tapped his chin exaggeratedly. “You think I should just not leave?”

“I think it’s important for you to have a safe place to sleep and a steady supply of food if you’re going to be fighting crime,” Canary said openly. “No one’s going to force you to stay anywhere.”

“Really?” Cisco raised an eyebrow.

“Really,” Canary said seriously, “but we want to offer you a place in Opal City. No strings.”

“Not much of a joiner,” Cisco lied. His history would suggest otherwise. “I’m not looking for a handout, or the backup that’ll come with it.”

“You needed backup today,” she pointed out, gently but firmly. “You could have been killed.”

“I’m doing _fine_ on my own,” Cisco ground out. “I don’t need anyone but Charmer, and I definitely don’t need therapy.”

Canary sighed. “Vibe, I know that doing fine can come in a lot of forms, but this isn’t doing fine. When was the last time you got more than an hour’s sleep?”

“You get a whole lot of sleep with your night job?” Cisco deflected.

“At least once a week I do,” she responded.

“I don’t need your constructive criticism,” Cisco argued. “I’m putting my all into doing good out there, can’t you be happy with that?”

“What do you think, honestly, would have happened if Impulse hadn’t come by?” she asked. “You don't have to tell me, just be honest with yourself.”

She waited, patiently, as though giving Cisco time to think. Cisco stared her down.

“You don’t have to join the team,” she went on, “or join anything. No one here will make you do anything against your will. But we do have safe houses, storerooms, places where you can get a hot shower and a hot meal.”

“If I’d known saving Kid Flash would make me your personal project maybe I’d have-” the barb stopped, refusing to pass his lips. He knew it stood a chance of cracking her composure, a pretty good one too, but somehow he just couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Judging by the look on her face, Canary knew why.

“Project?” she repeated, mercifully disregarding the slip. “Is that what you think we consider you.” She shook her head. “We just want you safe.”

“None of us do this because we want to play it safe,” Cisco pointed out. “Why is it okay for you to take risks and not me?”

“Aside from the fact that I’m not seventeen?” she said. “Because the risks I take are balanced. I have a team to watch my back, to bail me out _when_ things are too much. Not if. When. I eat more than 500 calories a day and I have medical equipment for when I get hurt, not just a half used tube of neosporin and a couple bandaids.”

“Is this the part where you tell me I’m trying to self destruct?” Cisco wondered sarcastically.

“Are you?” Canary replied with a raised eyebrow.

“What the hell do you know about me lady?” Cisco demanded. He was getting emotional, which would have earned him a punishment in training, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “You don’t know anything about me!”

“I know that you saved the life of someone important to me,” Canary went on, as cool as ever. “I know that you’re a hero, that you’re afraid of being controlled, and that you haven’t eaten a real meal besides this one all week.”

“Oh please,” Cisco scoffed, “as if you _aren’t_ trying to control me.”

Canary opened her mouth, probably to deny everything, but she was interrupted by the door opening. There was a gust of wind, like from someone using superspeed, and a yellow blur raced into the room.

Cisco’s heart kicked into high gear. He scrambled off the bed, trying to get as far away from the blur as he could. His skin prickled with sweat, and blood roared in his ears. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His vision tunneled in on the figure, now standing mere _feet_ from him, dressed head to toe in bright yellow.

No. It couldn’t be him. He was locked up. He couldn’t _be_ here and yet he was, somehow, standing in front of Cisco. The wall stopped Cisco’s retreat, and he backed along it until he hit the corner, then fell into a crouch on the floor, making himself as small as possible.

“No,” he whimpered, “not you, not-”

“I’m sorry,” said the figure, and Cisco’s brain stalled. Sorry?

“I just, I just wanted to thank you,” it went on, and Cisco squinted to bring it into focus. “For saving my life.”

Cisco blinked, and the yellow figure faded from a familiar red-eyed monster to the stunned face of Kid Flash.

***

When Wally had sped into the house in a whirlwind of excitement, asking hurriedly “Is it true? He’s here?” Jaime had tried to slow him down. Bart had tried too, but before either of them could intervene Wally was off and into the guest room, not waiting for an answer to his question. Judging by the resulting ruckus coming from inside, his presence was not well received.

Bart zipped into the room after Wally, Jaime hot on his heels. Vibe, when they saw him, was backed into the corner again. He looked once more terrified, and his eyes were fixed on Wally.

“Oh,” he whispered, probably to himself, “it’s you.”

“Dude!” Bart said, in his usual loud, brash manner.

“What’d you do?” Jaime demanded, looking between Wally and Vibe.

“I’m sorry,” Wally said, looking fixedly at Vibe. “I didn’t even _think_ I just . . . I wanted to thank you.”

“I-I-I,” Vibe stuttered, as though unable to form words.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Wally said awkwardly.

“I don’t think it’s your fault,” Jaime realized, trying to piece together several bits of information.

“Kid Flash,” said Black Canary authoritatively, “do you mind giving us the room? Impulse, Blue Beetle, you too.”

Wally cast one last longing look at Vibe, then turned and left the room. Bart followed, but Jaime hung back, looking at Vibe. He looked so terrified, over someone that Jaime trusted so much. Vibe had done so much for the team, bringing Wally back, getting Dick to return to work. It didn’t seem right that he should have to live in fear like this.

Jaime glanced between Vibe and Canary, questioning, and she nodded. Carefully, Jaime went to kneel down beside where Vibe was still crouched.

“I don’t pretend to know what you’ve gone through,” he began, “but I know what I’ve been through. Someone tried to use me as a weapon once, took control of me and made me do things I didn’t want to do. This team? They’re what saved me.”

Vibed looked up at him. “I can’t . . . I can’t do it. Not again.”

“No one’s asking you to,” Jaime said as soothingly as he could. “We’re just asking you to let us help you.”

“No such thing as a free lunch,” Cisco said, and it sounded like he was reciting it, like it was something he’d repeated to himself over and over.

Jaime opened his mouth to reply, but abruptly the scarab interrupted his thoughts. (" _This tactic is ineffective, Jaime Reyes,”_ ) he said. ( _“Recommended tactic: use his own logic against him.”_ )

Jaime considered this. For an approach recommended by an alien AI, it seemed sound.

“After what you did for Kid Flash, you don’t think you bought yourself a little downtime, at the very least?” he asked.

Vibe looked at him contemplatively, but said nothing. He seemed to be considering.

“You can’t keep running forever,” Jaime pressed his advantage. “You gotta trust somebody sometime.”

Vibe shook his head. “The last people I trusted promised the same thing. Place to sleep, food to eat, a chance to do good.”

“Who were they?” Jaime asked incredulously.

Vibe hesitated, then, “You tell me who controlled you first.”

Jaime looked down for a moment, gathering his courage. It still made him anxious to even talk about it; if anything, it had only gotten worse over time. “The Reach,” he admitted. “You?”

“ARGUS,” Vibe said.

(" _Truth for truth,”_ ) the scarab informed him.

“ARGUS?” Black Canary asked, alarmed.

“Who are they?” Jaime wondered, looking between her and Vibe.

Vibe’s lip curled. “The guys who wanted me to kill a member of the Justice League.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide. He could hazard a guess who that member might have been. This explained a lot.

He swallowed, then went on. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“I’m sorry for what happened to you,” Vibe lowed his eyes. “I know . . . there’s nothing to compare it to.”

Jaime shrugged, tense and awkward. “Can’t change it. It happened but . . . it’s over now.”

“Are you sure?” Vibe challenged. “How can you be sure it’s over?” He glanced at Canary. “There are all kinds of ways to control someone.”

“The Reach is gone,” Jaime told him. “I know it’s different for you, but . . . my team would never let anyone control me again.”

Vibe looked away. He seemed to be considering again, but his eyes had taken on a hard, tired quality that Jaime didn’t like.

“I want to leave,” he said at last, looking back at Jaime. “Please don’t help them keep me here.”

“No one’s gonna keep you here,” Jaime assured him.

“We _ask_ you to stay until your injuries are healed,” Canary continued for him, “but if you’re dead set on leaving, the zeta tube is three blocks East.”

Vibe tried to stand, but his knees buckled and he fell in a heap on the floor.

Jaime swore, in Spanish, swooping in to prop Vibe up against the wall. “Please, don’t do this to yourself,” he begged. “Stay, just until you’ve got your strength back. I won’t let anyone touch you.”

Vibe looked at him warily, studying Jaime’s face as though to assess his sincerity. At last he looked down at his side. There was no fresh blood, but it probably hurt a lot.

“F-fine,” Vibe stammered, “I’ll stay until Charmer gets back, then . . . reevaluate.”

“Crash!” came Bart’s voice from just beyond the door. He zipped inside, carrying what appeared to be a bag from Big Belly Burger.

Vibe flinched, making Jaime more sure of his conclusions about which member of the League Vibe had been meant to kill. Then he frowned in confusion.

“You already gave me food,” he protested, eyeing the bag.

“You’re telling me you aren’t still hungry?” Bart nudged him conspiratorially. “Come on, the speed force don’t come cheap calorie wise.”

Vibe hesitated, then took the bag and went to sit back down on the bed. He swung his legs up into a reclining position, then winced and clutched at his side.

“Oh man, this is gonna be so crash!” Bart began chattering away. “Vibe staying at Superboy’s place, all of us coming over to hang out! Dude, we should totally do a slumber party one night!”

“What he’s trying to say is that we’re glad you’re staying,” Jaime said.

“When you say it like that it makes me wonder why,” Cisco said suspiciously, pausing as he inhaled his fries.

“Dude, we’re worried about you,” Bart informed him, zipping over to knock on Vibe’s head as though to illustrate its emptiness.

Vibe threw up his hands to shield himself, but was too late to stop Bart from touching him. He scrambled back into the pillows, trying to get away.

“Don’t touch me!” he snarled, and Bart recoiled in shock.

Jaime fought the urge to catch Vibe’s wrist and pull him forward so he didn’t fall off the other side of the bed. Instead he turned to Bart. “Maybe cool your jets a little bit, huh?”

“Enough!” Canary called, standing up from her chair. “Let’s all give him some room.”

“But!” Bart looked over at Vibe like a child with a freshly wrapped present.

“We’ll see you later,” Jaime said, grabbing Bart’s arm and dragging him from the room.

Vibe swallowed, looking back and forth between Canary and where Jaime and Bart were making their retreat. “It’s ok,” said suddenly, causing Jaime to pause. “You don’t have to . . . because of me.”

“It’s alright,” Jaime said. “You’re supposed to be able to feel safe.”

Bart, however, whooped in excitement. He wiggled out of Jaime’s grip and raced back to the bed, already beginning his chatter once more.

Vibe, however, flinched away. “Could you, like, not?” he asked grumpily.

“Not talk?” Jaime laughed. “Good luck with that.”

“No,” Vibe corrected, “not . . . move so fast.”

“Good luck with that too,” Jaime told him.

“No speed?” Bart looked wounded. “Chop my legs off why don’t you.”

(" _It would appear that the Vibe is suffering from what you humans would call Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,”_ ) interjected the scarab unexpectedly.

“What, seriously?” Jaime said without thinking.

“Figure of speech Blue,” Bart rolled his eyes.

( _“His most prominent trigger seems to be the use of superspeed in his immediate vicinity,”_ ) the scarab went on. ( _“Recommended tactic: prevent the Impulse from using his speed without warning.”_ )

“Maybe just a little slower,” Jaime suggested, half to the scarab and half to Bart. “Or, with warning.”

Bart pouted, but took in the unsettled expression on Vibe’s face and sighed. “Ok,” he said, sitting down on the bed, “sitting still now.”

Vibe relaxed a little. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he sounded genuine. “I just . . .”

Bart fixed his trademark grin back in place. “It’s crash dude, I’m just glad you’re here! So, what’s it like being _inside_ the speed force? KF won’t talk about it, like at all.”

Vibe chewed his lip. “It’s . . . big. Quiet, but . . . not at the same time. Like, blood pumping in your ears, but . . . outside.”

“Can you feel it inside you?” Bart wondered. “Like speed?”

Vibe hesitated. “Dunno,” he confessed. “What’s speed feel like?”

“It’s like lightning dude!” Bart supplied enthusiastically. “It’s like there’s this electricity running all through you, making your body go all tingly. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

Vibe stared at Bart like he’d grown an extra head, shocked and vaguely frightened. “No,” he said, completely deadpan, “it doesn’t feel like that.”

Bart tilted his head in curiosity, looking at Vibe with something like pity in his eyes. “So,” he faltered, then picked up speed again, “Wally’s gotten a lot faster since you pulled him out. He can even lap me, _me_ , can you believe it?”

Vibe shrugged. “Were you always that much faster?”

“Oh yeah,” Jaime chimed in, “believe me, he was faster, and it kills him that Wally leveled up. Wally can even vibrate through solid matter now.”

“Used to be my trick,” Bart grumbled petulantly.

Vibe looked faintly troubled. “Guess that’s how it is with speedsters then. Always trying to be the fastest.”

“Well there can only be one Flash,” Bart pointed out, “and he’s the fastest man alive.”

“Yeah,” Vibe said, looking at Bart as though not really seeing him, like he was lost in his own thoughts. “I guess so.”

***

Cisco didn’t really remember falling asleep. One moment Bart was chattering away about the Flash and the next thing he knew Bart was gone. Cisco looked around, hoping to see where he went, but suddenly he realized that the bedroom was gone too. He was in a long dark hallway, back in his Vibe jacket and shades and big stompy boots he liked so much. After so many years of only occasionally being allowed to wear shoes, he liked those boots a lot.

He started running, as fast as he could down the hallway. He wasn’t sure why he was running, just that he needed to get somewhere, fast. Or maybe it was that he needed to get away from the place that he’d been? He couldn’t remember. His boots made a satisfying _thump_ sound every time they hit the floor, even if it did seem to be taking him a long time to take each step.

Cisco turned a corner, and suddenly there was Nightwing standing there. He had a grim, faintly angry expression on his face, and he made a grab for Cisco as though to stop him. Cisco dodged out of the way, even with his oddly slow movements, and kept running. He turned another corner, and there was Artemis, also lunging for him. He dodged her too, narrowly avoiding her grasping fingers as he sprinted down the hall. He knew, somehow, that having gotten past her she wouldn’t pursue him, but it was still important that he keep running.

He turned another corner, expecting Wally or perhaps Aqualad to jump out at him next, but instead he found that it was Jaime waiting for him. He made no move to hinder Cisco’s progress, merely stared at him anxiously as he continued to run. There was a light up ahead, and Cisco could see a set of double doors with a push-bar across the middle. He was still moving rather slowly, but he slammed full force into the door, his hands going to the push-bar to unlock it as he barreled through to the other side.

Suddenly he was not in the hallway, nor did he have any room to run. There were curved white walls all around him, boxing him into small circle of floor, and in front of him was a window to the world outside his tiny little room.

Just outside stood Amanda Waller.

“Waller!” Cisco called, but his voice sounded strange and far away. “Waller, let me out!”

“An asset that can’t be controlled is an asset that’s best destroyed,” Waller said, then turned to go.

“No!” Cisco screamed, raising a hand to pound on the glass. He struck out with his fist, but instead of something hard and cold, his hand met something soft and warm.

Cisco’s eyes snapped open, and he stared up into the impassive face of Superboy. He was still in bed, in the room that smelled of clean laundry, but the lights had been turned out and it was dark save for the moonlight streaming in through the window. Cisco had one arm outstretched, his hand balled into a fist, which Superboy had caught in one of his.

“There’s no pod,” Superboy said firmly.

Cisco blinked up at him. “What?”

“There’s no pod,” Superboy repeated. “You’re not trapped and no one’s hurting you. You’re safe.”

“I-” Cisco struggled to wrap his head around what was going on. “I, I mean . . . I didn’t mean to hit you.”

Superboy shrugged, and Cisco realized he probably couldn’t have hurt him with a punch if he’d been trying.

Then Cisco frowned. “How’d you know what I was dreaming about?”

“I didn’t,” Superboy told him, “but it’s a dream I used to have. A dream I still have, sometimes.”

“Were you . . .” a million questions ran through Cisco’s mind. Taken? Tortured? Brainwashed? Used as a weapon? At last he settled on, “captured by ARGUS?”

“No,” Superboy shook his head. “I met the Wall once though. Not pleasant. I was . . . I’m a clone. They kept me in a pod, too.”

There was a pause, and Cisco nodded his understanding. Well, his technical understanding. He doubted anyone could fully understand what it was like to be a clone. Having no past? No memories to hold onto? No . . . anything?

“Nightwing, when he was still Robin, and Kid Flash and Aqualad rescued me,” Superboy went on.

“They sure seem to have a thing about rescuing people,” Cisco said noncommittally. He wasn’t entirely sure he could trust Superboy, any more than he was sure he could trust Jaime. They _seemed_ like they could understand, but that could be exactly why they were being thrown at him. Superboy’s voice had been what cut through the confusion when he’d first woken up here, and the guy seemed like the no-nonsense type, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be taken in by a well crafted lie.

“It’s what they, we, do,” Superboy shrugged again. “I was their first . . . not mission, they weren’t supposed to be there, but they refused to leave me.”

“Refusing to leave people be is another thing they’re good at,” Cisco said dryly.

“They mean well,” Superboy said, voice softening somewhat. “I’m glad they didn’t leave me.”

Cisco looked down, not sure what to say to that, but Superboy put a hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s easy to feel alone,” he said, “but you’re not. Black Canary told me what you said. I was created to kill a member of the League too.”

Cisco stared at him, wide eyed. “You were?”

“Why do you think the bad guys cloned Superman?” Superboy wondered.

“Well if you’re gonna clone someone, you might as well,” Cisco pointed out.

“I was created to kill and replaced him,” Superboy said. “It’s only thanks to Kid Flash and the others that I didn’t. That I’m free, and not just a weapon.”

“And when you got here,” Cisco asked, “did they give you a choice? Did they ask you whether you wanted this life? To fight for them?”

“I didn’t have anywhere to go,” Superboy admitted, “but they didn’t make me fight for them.”

“And if you wanted to walk away right now?” Cisco pressed. “If you walked out that door and never came back, would they let you?”

“My _friends_ would ask me what was wrong,” Superboy said. “Probably try to talk me out of it, but they’d let me. Kid Flash retired for a couple years. Went to college. He came back because he wanted to, not because we made him.”

“Kid Flash is . . . different,” Cisco hedged. “He has a family, he has . . . normal.”

“Kid’s about as far from normal as it gets,” Superboy corrected. “Well, no, there’s Bart, but he’s a little unique. Still, too many of us have been . . . used. We won’t let it happen to you. No one’s gonna force you to do anything, and all you have to do is say the word to Kid Flash and he’ll take you anywhere in the world. He owes you his life.”

“I don’t want him to take me anywhere,” Cisco snapped, frustrated. “I don’t want him anywhere near-”

He shut his mouth, too late, and Superboy’s eyes narrow.

“So that’s the reason,” he said after a moment. “Why you had to cut and run the second you were awake.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cisco said weakly.

“It was the Flash wasn’t it,” Superboy guessed, “that you were supposed to kill. They made you hate speedsters.”

“I don’t hate them,” Cisco insisted, “and that’s not the reason I feel . . . however I feel.”

Superboy’s expression conveyed his skepticism, but he said nothing. Cisco knew he hadn’t denied that it was the Flash he was meant to kill, and he knew Superboy had noticed.

“Do you want some hot chocolate?” Superboy asked suddenly.

“Do you have so much food that you offer it to fill _every_ awkward silence?” Cisco wondered.

“When I’d have nightmares, Kal . . . Aqualad, or Miss Martian would make hot chocolate. And then we did it for Gar, after his mom . . . It’s a habit.”

Cisco nodded. He vaguely remembered having a similar family tradition before . . .

“Yeah,” he said, “hot chocolate sounds nice.”

“C’mon,” Superboy said, standing up from where he’d been perched on the side of the bed, “kitchen’s this way.”

Cisco swung his legs out and immediately clutched at his side. The pain was intense, and Superboy offered him a hand. Cisco looked at it a moment, assessing his options. If he touched Superboy he might get a vision, which not only ran the risk of revealing his other powers to the team but would also cause a splitting headache in his condition. Cisco did not want the team knowing any more about his powers than they already did. It only took one of them deciding that he was _too_ powerful to make a whole lot of brand new enemies. He needed Superboy’s help to get out of bed though, so he risked the touch.

He almost immediately regretted it when the world went blue, showing him what looked like the inside of some kind of ship. Miss Martian was seated in what he could only assume to be the pilot’s chair, her hands on two glowing spheres. A spaceship then. Superboy was there too, and he and Miss Martian seemed to be having an argument.

_“You mean how you abuse them,” Superboy was saying. “Ripping intel from the minds of your victims with no concern for what it does to their psyches.”_

_“They’re not victims,” Miss Martian insisted, “they’re the bad guys! That information is helping the team, the League, the entire planet!”_

_“And leaving your victims in a catatonic state,” Superboy finished as though Miss Martian hadn’t spoken._

“Vibe?” asked Superboy’s voice, not sounding quite so far away as had a moment ago. Cisco shook himself and the blue faded away, leaving him back in the guest room with Superboy’s arm around his waist.

Questions spun through his mind. What was that about? Was that the past or the future? How long ago or how far away had it been? Was Miss Martian here, in the house now? What was his vibe trying to tell him?

Superboy, however, wasn’t going to give Cisco time to consider. “Are you alright?” he asked, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

Cisco trembled, afraid of what to say. What if Miss Martian was around? What if she hadn’t done that yet? What if she was _about_ to? He needed to give an answer though, Superboy was starting to give him a speculative look.

“Hurts,” Cisco said through gritted teeth, feigning pain in his side. It wasn’t hard; his side really did hurt.

Superboy nodded, then let Cisco lean on him more heavily as he hoisted himself upright.

“So,” Cisco said shakily as they made their way to the kitchen, trying to sound like he was just making conversation, “who else is here?”

“Gar lives at HQ, but he ends up here pretty often,” Superboy said. “Bart’s in the living room, but Jaime had to go home or his family would have started to worry.”

Cisco held in his sigh of relief. No Miss Martian, not yet. He just needed to stay out of her way until Charmer got back; he’d have done that anyway, what with her mind reading powers. Maybe they were on a mission together, although that thought freaked him out a little bit. He’d told Charmer to join the team for her protection, hoping her powers would be useful but not too useful. Was she in other danger?

When they reached the kitchen Superboy went straight to the fridge and Cisco took a seat at the kitchen table. It was odd to think of a younger version of Superman bustling, but Superboy certainly was bustling around getting out milk and a saucepan and cocoa to add when it got warm enough. Eventually a green cat that must have been Gar wandered into the kitchen and jumped onto Cisco’s lap.

“He’s really taken to you,” Superboy commented as Cisco began to awkwardly stroke the cat’s fur. “He must really want you to be comfortable here.”

“I’m not staying,” Cisco muttered, but he took the mug that Superboy offered him.

Gar meowed unhappily, then flicked Cisco in the nose with his tail.

“I don’t think he likes your answer,” some of Superboy’s serious demeanor slipped beneath obvious fondness. “You should have seen him when Miss Martian and I broke up. He kept trying to play matchmaker.”

“Broke up?” Cisco asked, hoping he didn’t sound too prying. His vibe though . . . he had to know.

“We were . . . together, for a long time,” Superboy said, stilted and awkward. “Then we had a . . . critical difference of opinion, and I ended it.”

Gar meowed unhappily again.

“I’m sorry,” Cisco offered. He couldn’t help but feel guilty for feeling a little safer. Superboy was aware of what she’d done, at least. It was always difficult to tell whether his visions were of the past, present or future, but it seemed that fight he’d seen was from a while ago. If anything was keeping people here against their will, it wasn't Miss Martian.

Superboy poured himself some hot chocolate, then looked at the cat. “If you want some you’d better change into something that’s not lactose intolerant.”

The cat jumped off Cisco’s lap to sit primly in the next chair down, then changed abruptly into the boy Cisco had met briefly before Black Canary had arrived. Gar accepted a cup from Superboy, then turned to stare at Cisco over the rim of it, watching Cisco with curious green eyes.

“Why don’t you want to stay with us?” he asked after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “You saved Kid Flash, and your powers are cool. Doesn’t Nightwing want you to stay?”

Cisco frowned. This kid looked way too young for this kind of thing.

“Yeah, but I’m no one’s _weapon_ ,” Cisco informed him, trying to sound firm and authoritative. “I’m not a tool in someone’s utility belt. Not ever again.”

“I’m not a weapon either,” Gar insisted naively. “I help people; we all help people. Isn’t that what you were doing when you got hurt?”

“I help people on my own terms,” Cisco said. “No one gives me orders.”

“And how’s that working out for you?” Superboy interjected sarcastically.

Cisco hunched his shoulders, glaring. “At least I’m free.”

“Just because you listen to someone doesn’t mean you’re not free,” Gar argued lightly. “I have to listen to my tutor, does that mean I’m not free because I’m in school?”

“I . . . that’s different,” Cisco said, then paused for a moment, considering. “You could leave if you wanted to.”

“I don’t want to leave,” Gar said. “We’re all here because we want to be, not because we have to be. I have a place here and I like it. You could have a place here too.”

Cisco stared down at his hot chocolate. This kid was way too _pure_ to argue with, and dead mom or no he was clearly too young to understand the full implications of the situation where he’d found himself. He decided to leave it for now, and cast around for a new topic of conversation.

“So,” he began, “how’s Charmer been doing since she joined the team?”

He hoped it would deflect any more questions about his own presence; surely Gar must like Charmer too, must be happy that she was going to stay at least.

“She’s _great_ ,” Gar perked up. “Her, me and Miss Martian can all shapeshift, kinda, so we go on missions together a lot!”

Cisco smiled despite himself. He couldn’t help it, he liked it when people liked Charmer.

“Yeah?” he prompted. “Do you guys make a good team?”

“Definitely,” Gar nodded. “I think Miss Martian was a bit jealous at first, but it’s really fun to watch them shapeshift into different people. Or, change their appearance anyway. It’s cool though.”

“And it means I’ll never have to dye my hair again,” Superboy added.

“She casts illusions on your hair?” Cisco laughed. He wasn’t entirely sure he liked the idea of Charmer striking up a rivalry with Miss Martian, but Superboy didn’t seem to think much of it, so he let it slide.

“No,” Superboy said grumpily, “I mean, sometimes two people have to go undercover. Now that there are two of us who can disguise ourselves, that means I don’t have to dye my hair and go undercover.”

“Ah,” Cisco said, “I see.”

“They do make a good team, by the way,” Superboy concluded. “They’re off on a mission together now, actually.”

“You didn’t get to go?” Cisco asked Gar curiously.

“No,” Gar huffed, then grinned. “But that means I got to be here to meet you!”

Cisco took a long sip of his hot chocolate. “Charmer doesn’t talk much about her work,” Cisco deflected. “Says I should come see for myself.”

“We’d love to have you,” Superboy said diplomatically.

“I wouldn’t be much good undercover,” Cisco pointed out. “My look’s a bit distinct for that.”

“I hear that,” Gar raised his mug and knocked it against Cisco’s.

“You can go as an animal,” Superboy said.

“How many animals are this shade of green?” Gar tugged on his own hair demonstratively.

Cisco laughed through his nose, trying to stifle the sound, but it was enough to draw both their attention. They both smiled, Superboy tiredly and Gar enthusiastically, but both of them seemed oddly fond.

“How long had you and Charmer worked together before?” Superboy asked. “She doesn’t talk about you much either.”

Cisco hesitated, wondering what to say. “Since we escaped from ARGUS together,” he said at last, settling on a shortened version of the truth.

“Was she-” Superboy hesitated, “like us? Was she supposed to-”

“No,” Cisco shook his head. “She was . . . leverage.”

“Leverage?” Superboy repeated.

“She has her own demons,” Cisco said, “from before. So do I.”

“We all do, I think,” Superboy said. “To different degrees.”

Gar didn’t have quite the same tact. “Why’d you want her to join the team, if you think it’s so bad?”

Cisco looked down at his nearly empty mug, frowning as he tried to think of how to explain. “I wanted her to be safe,” he said quietly. “I wanted to know someone was watching her back. She might need it one day.”

“She has our backs just as much as we have hers,” Superboy said, smiling slightly. “We’d have yours too, if you wanted.”

“I’m not much of a team player,” Cisco lied. He’d love to be a team player, but that would be too dangerous for him. “That’s why I needed someone else to do it.”

Neither Gar nor Superboy looked convinced. “We won’t let anything happen to Charmer,” Superboy assured him anyway.

“That does a lot more for me than you know,” Cisco informed him, trying to give the two of them something. Trying to release them from whatever debt the team still thought they owed him.

“They should be back from their mission in a day or two,” Superboy said, then drained his mug. “Charmer’ll be glad to see you.”

“She’ll be pissed,” Cisco corrected. “I got hurt, she’s not gonna be happy with me.”

“She’ll be glad you’re alive,” Superboy pointed out.

Cisco leaned forward, propping his elbow on the table as he prepared to explain to Superboy what he had apparently missed about Cindy’s temper. Once he was in contact with the tabletop however, the world went blue. The scene didn’t change though; he was still sitting at the table with Gar and Superboy, and Cisco realized this must be the immediate future. Something was going to happen mere moments from now.

Suddenly there was a blast from somewhere off to his left, and Cisco whirled to see the far wall bulge, splinter and come apart. In slow motion a wall of fire forced its way through, heading straight for the table. The next room over must have been living room, meaning Bart was already engulfed in flames . . .

Cisco gasped he was dumped back into the present, color coming back in a rush. He looked around at Superboy and Gar, to see them both staring at him with identical looks of alarm on their faces. He’d been out of it too long.

“What’s happened?” Superboy demanded. “What’s wrong? You just spaced out-”

“We have to get out of here,” Cisco spoke over him urgently, pushing back his chair and standing up as quickly as the pain would allow. “We have to get Bart, I don’t know how much time-”

“Slow down,” Superboy demanded, standing up as well. “What happened?”

Cisco hesitated a moment, but he had no choice. He had to tell.

“I can see the future,” he said seriously. “Just now? I had a vision. I saw this place being destroyed, so we need to _leave_.”

“You can see the future?” Gar repeated skeptically. Superboy looked equally dubious.

Cisco growled in frustration and turned to Superboy. “When you helped me up I spaced out a minute, right?” he said. “I had another vision; that time it was the past, and I saw you and Miss Martian having an argument about her abusing her powers.”

Superboy stiffened, his eyes going hard, and Cisco wondered if revealing that might have done more harm than good. It had seemed very private; maybe Superboy didn’t want Gar knowing about it. Then Superboy was skirting quickly around the table and heading toward the living room, Gar following close behind. Cisco limped after them, arriving in the living room last to find Superboy shaking Bart awake and Gar trying to open the front door.

“It won’t open!” he called, tugging uselessly at the handle. He turned into a large gorilla and continued tugging, but the handle merely came off in his big hand.

“Move,” Superboy commanded, striding purposefully toward the door.

“Wait!” Cisco called, leaning on the back of the sofa. “If you go smashing through the door then whoever planted the bomb might detonate it early.”

“Bomb?” said Bart, suddenly awake and alert.

“You have a better idea?” Superboy raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said we needed to get out?”

Cisco didn’t allow himself to think about it. “Hold on,” he said, then fixed his eyes on a point in the middle of the room and concentrated. He extended a hand in front of himself, and out of it shot the familiar blue energy he had come to associate with his own power. It pooled in the spot where he’d been looking, forming a rippling blue portal.

“Everyone through there!” Cisco shouted.

Bart didn’t need telling twice; he zipped through the portal at top speed, creating a gust of wind that blew around Gar’s gorilla fur. Gar shifted back into a human and leaped after Bart. Superboy turned to Cisco and, before he could protest, scooped him up and carried him after the others.

They came out, as Cisco had intended, just a few hundred feet away. He had considered sending them to another universe first, as would have been easiest, but he couldn’t risk losing any of them on an unfamiliar Earth. Instead they ended up on a sidewalk, at the corner of two intersecting streets in a quiet, suburban neighborhood.

“So,” said Bart interestedly, “what exactly-”

There was an enormous _boom_ sound, and all of them whirled to see one of the quiet little houses explode in a great ball of flames. Debris flew in every direction, shards of wood and glass and plastic siding, and the nearest walls of the two neighboring houses were singed. A great cloud of black smoke rose into the air.

“See,” Cisco said woozily, “I told you.”

The last thing he registered was his head falling back against Superboy’s shoulder, and the general sense that he was so, so screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I PROMISE THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER I WILL END WITH CISCO FALLING UNCONSCIOUS I DID NOT MEAN FOR THIS PATTERN TO EMERGE IT JUST WORKED OUT THAT WAY!
> 
> comments are love, and remember to thank your friendly neighborhood hedgi.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have you thanked a hedgi for writing half this dialogue today?

This time when Cisco came back to consciousness he already knew where he was. Well, he didn’t know  _ exactly _ where he was, but he knew he was safe. Or as safe as he could be, when every Leaguer and their sidekick knew where to find him. He at least knew that he had not been captured by an enemy, as evidenced by the fact that the sheets beneath his hands were soft and the blanket thrown over him was warm. It didn’t smell of anything here, just clean, filtered air, and for a few moments Cisco merely breathed it in.

Then the pain hit, and Cisco winced. His side throbbed, his muscles ached, and his head was pounding with a blossoming migraine. Gingerly, and without opening his eyes, Cisco shifted one hand to poke at the wound. His finger came away dry, so apparently of all the things he’d done he hadn’t managed to rip his stitches again. Or if he had someone had sewn him back up.

“Look who’s back,” said a voice from somewhere over his head.

Cisco opened his eyes to find Nightwing looming over him, looking entirely too smug. “You know, for a guy who doesn’t want to join my team, you’re awfully protective of it.”

Cisco swallowed, wondering what he was supposed to say to that. It seemed like a trick question.

“I wasn’t gonna leave,” he croaked, then cleared his throat and tried again. “I couldn’t do something like that.”

“Of course not,” said Nightwing, sounding almost amused. “It’s not who you are. You’ve proved that more than enough times for me to know what I’m getting into with you. Believe me, I don’t extend these invitations to just anyone.”

Cisco chewed his lip. Clearly he’d managed to bolster Nightwing’s determination to get him to join the team, but in his current state he definitely couldn’t go off on his own any time soon. He looked around. This room was different than the last one, with nothing on the walls and no window. There was a dresser in one corner, a closet set into one wall, and a desk across from the foot of the bed, but there was no evidence of decoration or even habitation. It was like no one had ever used this room at all. Its barrenness made it look almost like a hospital room, or perhaps . . .

“Where are we?” Cisco wondered in alarm. “Another safehouse?”

“The Hall of Justice, residential wing,” Nightwing told him, making Cisco’s eyes widen. “Needed a new place to crash after our old HQ blew up about a year ago.”

“But I’m not a part of your team . . .” Cisco protested.

Nightwing was still smiling, infuriatingly. “Yeah, but you might as well be.”

Cisco swallowed again. If the team hadn’t known about the visions or the portals before, then they did now. The one thing they hadn't seen at this point is just how strong his vibration blasts could get. Yet somehow he was not in a pod or a containment unit, hell he wasn’t even strapped to the bed. They could be counting on his injuries to keep him docile though, so he remained wary. He was grateful to not be restrained; he was pretty sure if they were to restrain him he wouldn’t be able to stay calm, which would probably mean revealing his full powers in a panic and most likely dying of his injuries. He would just have to pretend to be weaker than he was so they didn't think it necessary.

He kept his head on the pillow rather than raising it as he surveyed Nightwing. “How long was I out?”

“Not too long, it’s not even noon.”

“I feel like death,” Cisco admitted, which wasn’t a lie. He could move, but he was glad for the excuse not to.

“Are you sure you don’t want a painkiller?” Nightwing offered.

Cisco was a little surprised he asked. He’d have expected them to just dope him up, give them more time to figure out what to do with him. He hesitated. He did want a painkiller, but he didn't want to be too out of it. He needed to be clear headed right now.

“Just an advil,” he said after a minute.

Nightwing looked almost trouble, but he fetched the pill and helped Cisco get it down.

“Look,” he said once he’s set the glass of water on the bedside table, “we should probably talk about this.”

Cisco gripped the blanket to try and hide how shaky his hands were, but nodded. He had to have known this was coming.

“Why didn’t you tell us about your other powers?” Nightwing asked, sounding oddly concerned.

This was it. The other shoe dropping. Cisco took a deep breath and tried to give an innocent answer. “Figured you already knew. You knew about me-”

“I only found out what I needed to get Wally back,” Nightwing told him. “I didn’t even know about the vibration blasts until I saw them.”

Cisco frowned. “It should all have been in my ARGUS file-”

“I didn’t get my intel from ARGUS.”

Cisco felt his heart begin to pound, icy adrenaline dumping itself into his veins. His breathing picked up, his lungs seeming too small to get enough air. Spots danced in front of his eyes, and he felt that he might faint. There was only one other source Nightwing could have learned about him from.

“Y-you talked to  _ him _ ?” Cisco asked, clutching hard at the blanket. He wanted to get up and run away more than anything, but he knew he wouldn’t get far.

Nightwing nodded, a worried look on his face. “Easy, kid, easy. Calm down. Breathe.”

“You shouldn’t talk to him,” Cisco insisted, but his voice sounded higher than it had before. “He’ll get inside your head.”

“I know,” Nightwing said firmly, “I was well trained. I know when someone’s trying to manipulate me.”

“I’m sure you think so,” Cisco told him, “but it’s impossible to predict what he wants you to do. You could be playing into his hands right now!”

“He can’t hurt you again,” Nightwing insisted.

Cisco fought to control his breathing, tried to tell himself the things he’s told himself since his escape.  _ He’s not here. Flash locked him up. He can’t hurt you. _

“Hey,” Nightwing sat near him on the bed, an arm’s length away. “It’s ok. He’s still locked up. He’s not getting out. Easy, kid. You’re safe here. I promise. We won't let him hurt you.”

Cisco forced himself to breathe in and out slowly, deep breaths to steady his nerves. Eventually he was able to release his death grip on the blanket and look up at Nightwing again.

“I don’t think anywhere will ever be safe from him,” Cisco said shakily. “Not for me.”

“He’s locked up, for good,” Nightwing repeated. “And the League -- the team -- we won’t let him hurt you. Not ever again.”

Cisco nodded, more to reassure Nightwing than anything. In truth he wasn’t entirely sure what he believed. He’d been telling himself those same things for years, but he didn’t know if he’d ever really believe them.

“So,” Nightwing went on when Cisco was silent, “how long did the Reverse Flash have you?”

Cisco wet his lips, steeling himself. “He took me when I was nine,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “I escaped when I was fifteen.”

“Six years,” Nightwing’s eyes were wide behind his mask.

“Yeah,” Cisco confirmed. It sounded like an impossibly long time, when Nightwing said it like that.

There was the sound of fabric against fabric, and Cisco glanced down to see that Nightwing had balled his gloved hands into fists.

“Then let me promise you, personally, that neither the team nor the League will  _ ever  _ leave you in that position again. He’s never getting out of prison. He will never again lay a hand on you.”

“Trust me,” Cisco said, trying to keep his voice gentle, “he wouldn’t have helped you find me if he didn’t have an angle. It’s better for everyone if I just disappear and you never see me again.”

Nightwing shook his head. “Not until you heal, at least.”

Cisco nodded. It was better to let Nightwing think he was going to stay until he was fully healed, then sneak off as soon as he could manage. He would need to talk to Charmer first anyway, make sure she knew not to follow him.

Nightwing ran a hand distractedly through his hair. “I didn’t tell the others. About your powers. Beast Boy and Superboy haven’t given statements yet, just talked to me. If you don’t want the League to know about your visions, they won’t tell.”

“You would do that for me?” Cisco asked, a little incredulous. “Why? You have no reason to keep my secret from your mentor. You could get in trouble for lying to the League, for-”

“It’s not my secret, our secret, to tell,” Nightwing explained. “You deserve your privacy. You saved my friends’ lives, it’s the least we can do, especially if you don’t want to stick around and let us watch your back.”

“It’s nothing personal,” Cisco tried to sound sincere, “but it’s not safe for any of us if I stay. I don’t want to bring trouble down on you any more than I want to get in trouble myself.”

“Just know that if you ever need a place, there’s one for you here,” Nightwing said. “You can’t run forever, I think you know that for yourself. Superboy told me a little of what you said to him. We’re not going to keep you prisoner or anything like that. If you get tired of running, I hope you know you’re welcome here. Not for your powers, for  _ you _ . Not as a tool, as a . . . friend?” Nightwing left the last word as a sort of question, hanging in the air between them.

“Friend,” Cisco echoed, equally uncertain but more like a statement. He hadn’t had a friend since he was a child, since that fateful day when a shadow fell over him as he played in the park, carefully within eyesight of Dante. Charmer had only been his friend for a short time before they had moved to being lovers. He supposed Blue Beetle, Superboy and Beast Boy, maybe even Impulse and Kid Flash, could be like friends. Cisco wished he had the freedom to pursue that possibility.

Nightwing smiled again. “Are you feeling up to company? Superboy and Gar are worried.”

Cisco was not feeling particularly up to company, but he owed Superboy for the vision about him and Miss Martian, and he probably freaked out Gar by fainting. He nodded.

“I’ll tell them not to stay too long,” Nightwing said. “You need your rest.”

Nightwing left Cisco alone for a few minutes, then returned with the others. Gar entered in cat form, brushing past Nightwing’s ankles as he turned to leave again, then leaped onto the bed and started purring up a storm. Superboy entered more sedately, taking Nightwing’s vacated chair, but surprisingly he was followed by Aqualad, who remained standing by the bed.

“It’s good to see you awake my friend,” Aqualad said seriously. “I had heard you were badly injured and remained unconscious.”

Cisco nodded. “It’s . . . good to be awake.”

“How are you feeling?” Superboy asked, once more calm and stoic as ever. Maybe he was over the whole vision thing already, Cisco wondered. Or maybe that was just how he dealt with stressful things.

“Like death warmed over,” Cisco admitted. He was only playing it up a little, he felt sore and exhausted and he badly didn’t want to move.

“Just try not to rip your stitches again,” Superboy advised.

Gar purred as though in agreement.

“We’re, uh,” Superboy rubbed the back of his neck, “we’re sorry about your boots and your jacket.”

“My what?” Cisco blinked, then glanced down at the clean cotton shirt he was wearing. He'd barely noticed it last night, what with everything else going on, and he hadn't really expected to keep his clothes after being abducted. No else had ever let him.

“I wasn’t really expecting to see those again,” Cisco said.

That statement was met with silence, and Cisco looked up to find them all staring at him in apparent alarm. He cleared his throat and cast around for something to say.

“So,” Cisco tried to sound conversational, “any idea who’d want to blow up your house?”

“Plenty of people,” Superboy said, looking rather unconcerned. “As to who actually did it? No leads yet.”

“You don’t seem very worried,” Cisco noted.

Superboy shrugged. “It comes with the territory.”

Cisco opened his mouth to reply that an attitude like that was a little troubling, but Aqualad felt it prudent to chime in at that point.

“Charmer will return from her mission soon,” he said. “She will be pleased to see you.”

Cisco sighed in relief. He didn’t believe Nightwing’s assurances about them not keeping him here for a moment, and it would still be nice to have an ally nearby. Plus, Cindy always made things better, and he felt rotten. He wanted to ask Gar and Superboy to keep his secret about his powers, but he didn’t want to mention it in front of Aqualad. The fewer people who knew, the better.

“Nightwing tells me you will be staying at least until your injuries are healed,” Aqualad continued. “Our door is always open to you, now more than ever. I’m grateful to you for saving my friends.”

“Uh . . .yeah. T-thanks,” Cisco stammered. He wondered exactly what Nightwing had told him.

“He doesn’t like it when people worry about him,” Superboy interjected sarcastically, shooting Aqualad a look that was almost conspiratory.

“It has probably been some time since anyone worried about him,” Aqualad speculated.

Cisco couldn’t help but recall Aqualad’s reaction when he’d mentioned that the method of entering the speed force was dangerous. He’d never had someone actually try to  _ stop _ him from using his powers for their benefit, no matter the danger or the cost. He wasn’t used to anyone caring about his wellbeing, aside from wanting him to be useful.

“I’m not a baby,” Cisco said shakily, trying to sound dismissive to cover up his discomfort. “I don’t need anyone to worry about me.”

“We never said you were,” Aqualad smiled warmly down at him. “My King and mentor, Aquaman, has often expressed concern for my wellbeing. It is not a sign of weakness on your part.”

Cisco blinked up at him in surprise. Mentor was one thing, but a  _ King _ worrying about sidekick . . .

“Atlantis must be a pretty chill place,” Cisco remarked without thinking.

Aqualad laughed a little. “Not really.”

Gar purred loudly as though to remind them all of his presence, and Cisco began petting him absently. “How do you like the surface?” he asked Aqualad. “Better?”

“Parts of it,” Aqualad admitted. “There are some things I miss, but I miss the surface when I am below.”

Cisco nodded, contemplating what it would be like to live in two worlds at once. It sounded like a lot of always wanting to be somewhere else.

“And you?” Aqualad continued. “Is there a place you miss?”

Cisco thought of his home when he was a kid, but then he remembered his containment cell at ARGUS. The room where he’d been . . . kept, before that.

“No,” he said shortly.

“Nowhere?” Aqualad pressed, his tone verging on pitying.

“I miss Charmer, when she’s gone,” Cisco offered. He left out the part where he was about to miss her even more.

Aqualad nodded. “I believe she misses you as well.”

The implication that he wanted Cisco to stay was still there, but he was less pushy about it than some of the others. Cisco appreciated that. It made him feel safer, at least to some degree.

“You must be tired,” Aqualad said, giving Cisco an opening to ask them to leave. Gar stood up and meowed expectantly, as though waiting for Cisco to refuse the offered rest. Superboy looked at him impassively, ready to stay or go.

“I’ve been asleep for a while,” Cisco says, looking at Gar. “I should probably be awake. Eat something-”

“Did someone say eat?” called Bart’s voice from somewhere beyond the door. He appeared in the doorway a moment later, carrying yet another tray. There was . . . a lot of food on it, breakfast themed this time.

“Admit it,” Cisco challenged, “you’re trying to fatten me up.”

“Doy, dude,” Bart laughed. “You’re way too skinny.”

Cisco couldn’t think of an argument to that. Also, the food smelled really good.

Superboy was glaring at Bart, and Cisco knew he must be annoyed that Bart had barged in again, but he hadn't used his speed, and for that Cisco was grateful.

“Thanks man,” he said, before taking a large bite of chocolate chip pancake while looking pointedly at Superboy. It was perfect, and Superboy stopped glaring.

“I didn’t know your favorite, so I whipped up a little bit of everything,” Bart said, beaming. “Any requests?”

“You got any hot sauce?” Cisco asks, fondly recalling a stove with a dozen bottles of different brands arranged along the back.

Bart turned and walked slowly out of the room, but once he was past the door Cisco heard the telltale  _ whoosh _ of speed being activated. Bart was back a second later, handing Cisco a little bottle.

“Like it spicy? That’s crash,” he said. “We gotcha covered.”

Bart watched as Cisco liberally applied hot sauce to his eggs and hash browns, then waited until Cisco had taken a big bite to say, “Hey can Wally come in? He’s in the living room moping.”

Cisco froze. He knew it wasn’t exactly fair to Wally to be afraid -- it was just the suit and the speed -- and yet . . 

“S-sure,” Cisco nodded hurriedly, before he could let himself think about it too hard. “It’s overdue. We should talk.”

Bart’s expression said he could read Cisco’s apprehension, but he left anyway, closing the door behind himself. That  _ whoosh _ of superspeed came again, and then the door opened and a ginger head poked into the room.

“Hello?” said Wally nervously. He had traded his combat yellow for street clothes, and Cisco thought he looked somehow smaller.

“You can come in,” Cisco said, and he was pleased to find that his voice sounded steady.

“Perhaps we should go,” said Aqualad suddenly. Cisco’s eyes snapped to him, not entirely sure he was ready to be left alone with a speedster, but Superboy was already picking up Gar from Cisco’s lap and taking Bart by the back of the neck.

“What’d I do?” Bart complained as he was dragged out, leaving Cisco and Wally alone.

Wally scuffed his foot on the floor, not looking at Cisco. “You can sit down,” Cisco said, watching his nervous posture.

“Right,” said Wally, then took the vacated chair. “I never got the chance to, uh, thank you. For saving my life.”

“I didn’t give you much of a chance, I guess,” Cisco replied. He meant to be comforting, but somehow it sounded harsh to his own ears.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Wally said, bowing his head and peeking up at Cisco from under his lashes.

“Not your fault,” Cisco shook his head. “I’m . . . a little screwed up.”

Wally straightened but winced. “That’s not your fault either.”

“That I got scared or that I got screwed up?” Cisco wondered.

“Either,” Wally said. “Both. You couldn’t help what happened to you.”

“I know,” he said, trying once more to sound reassuring. “It’s no one’s fault except the people who did it.”

Wally nodded, then stopped and shook his head. “And ours. The Flash’s and mine. We should have  _ known _ Reverse Flash had a captive. We should have  _ saved _ you!”

Cisco took a moment to digest this piece of information. Apparently Nightwing had told at least one person about where he had really gotten his intel. Admittedly they had never agreed to keep that part a secret, but Cisco couldn’t help but wonder just how many of the team knew the details of his six year captivity. He wondered if telling Wally had been meant to make him feel guilty, or merely to explain why Cisco was skittish around speedsters. He wondered if Bart knew, and if that was why he’d stopped using his speed around Cisco. The idea that the entire team knew made him feel slightly sick.

Cisco forced himself back to the present situation, to Wally, who had just said something deeply troubling.

“You can’t think like that,” he insisted. “You’re not responsible for him. You did everything you could, and without you I wouldn’t have gotten away at all.”

“How did you escape?” Wally wondered.

“You caught him,” Cisco said. “You locked him up. I . . . stayed, for a while, waiting for him to come back. I thought he was testing me. But then I saw it on the news, and I . . . I was able to leave.”

“Which is when ARGUS picked you up,” Wally speculated.

“You can’t blame yourself for that,” Cisco shook his head.

Wally combed his fingers through his hair. “I still feel guilty.”

Cisco hesitated, wondering if he should say this. “Do you know why I wanted to save you?”

Wally blinked. “I mean, I figured Nightwing talked you into it,” he said in confusion.

“He did,” Cisco told him, “but I knew I would do it the moment he asked. I spent . . . so much time. So much of my life, training to kill the Flash. I came so close to actually doing it. I dreamed about it so many times. I felt like I owed him something, for all that. For what I might have done.”

Wally closed his eyes. “But you didn’t. You didn’t owe him, or me. You never hurt us. Either of us.”

“Knowing that won’t stop the way I feel, or that you feel,” Cisco said shakily. His face felt hot. “I think we’re always going to feel a little bit responsible for each other.”

Wally nodded. “There are worse things in life. Can’t change the past, just the future.”

Cisco decided against bringing up the ways in which one could, in fact, change the past. It was better not to mess with that stuff.

“I have to know, though,” Wally went on. “You not joining the team-”

“I keep saying!”

“-is it because of me?”

Cisco had been expecting a lot of things, but not that. “Why would you think-”

“I can see why you wouldn’t want to be around me,” Wally said, “or any speedster. Bart told me-”

“It’s not you,” Cisco told him. “Or Bart. I just . . . I can’t.”

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Wally tried, but Cisco shook his head again.

“I’m not,” Cisco half-lied. He was afraid of many things, just not Wally. “But I won’t be used again.”

“We wouldn’t  _ use _ you,” Wally protested.

“You don’t think you’re being used?” Cisco raised an eyebrow.

“No,” Wally said. “I make my own choices.”

Cisco sighed. He knew there was probably no convincing Wally otherwise, but Cisco wasn’t exaggerating. He really did feel oddly responsible for Wally, and even Bart. There was some strange connection that bound them, like fate.

Wally wasn’t done though. “No one forced me to join the team. I walked away when I needed to. The team, the League, they’re not like where you were before. You can always, always leave.”

There was a part of Cisco that badly wanted to believe it. That wanted to stay there, with Charmer and all these people who’d be his friends if he gave them half a chance. But he knew from experience it was too good to be true. Either they’d turn out to be trouble or he’d put them in danger, one or the other, and he wasn't in a hurry to find out which. Still, it was tempting. He could be with Charmer. He could keep an eye on Wally and Bart, and even Gar, who he’d somehow started to like a lot in a short space of time. He could do more good than stopping purse snatchers in Opal City, and having a hot meal every day and a real bed to sleep in every night would be nice. He didn’t even have that at ARGUS, and certainly not when . . .

“I can’t,” Cisco said, forcing himself to look away from Wally, to distance himself. “It’s not that I don’t want it, it’s that . . . I can’t.”

“You don’t have to, but the door’s open,” Wally said. “If you ever need anything. Medical attention. Food. A place to sleep for the night.”

Cisco let a wry smile slip onto his face. “Well if it’s so important to every single one of you that I eat your food.”

Wally smiled back. “Believe me, I know the importance of calories.”

“The speed force don’t come cheap,” Cisco echoed Bart’s earlier sentiment.

“It’s given me an appreciation,” Wally agreed.

Cisco sighed. “I guess I should probably reassure Nightwing and Canary. They were pretty adamant about me using team resources at least.”

“They worry,” Wally agreed, “and if you don’t want to use our resources, well, Flash travels a lot. We’ve all got friends that would give you a couch for a night or two.”

“I . . . might,” Cisco hedges, “and that goes for you too. If you need me, you can use the speed force to contact me. Just don’t tell Nightwing that, I’m not sure it’s the best thing for anyone if  _ he _ can find me.”

Wally nodded seriously. “I’d trust him with my life, but if you don’t want me to, I won’t tell.”

“I trust him too,” Cisco tried to smile reassuringly. “It’s the guy he’s getting his intel from I don’t trust.”

Wally blinked. “From? Who . . . oh.  _ Oh. _ ”

Cisco narrowed his eyes. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No,” Wally shook his head. “He explained . . . what happened to you, but not how he found out. Look, Nightwing . . . he’d only have asked  _ him _ if he was desperate, and he was. I’ll tell him not to talk to the guy again.”

“I’m pretty sure my reaction put him off doing it again,” Cisco admitted, avoiding Wally’s eye, “but  _ he _ wouldn’t have helped Nightwing find me if he didn't have a reason. As soon as I’m strong enough I need to disappear.”

“That’s your choice,” Wally said, “but it would make us feel a little better to know that if things get bad you’ll accept help. And we won’t let  _ him _ get anywhere near you.”

“I will,” Cisco lied. “And you just . . . just stay away from him. He can’t get in your head if you don’t talk to him, so just don’t set yourself up for that.”

Wally nodded. “Dude’s creepy. Believe me, I want nothing to do with  him.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Cisco assured him.

Wally winced but said nothing.

Cisco looked at his hands. “Nightwing said he knew he was being manipulated, but I don’t buy it.  _ He’s _ too good to let a kid see through him.”

“Nightwing’s not just some kid,” Wally protested lightly.

“And  _ he _ is no ordinary villain,” Cisco replied. “He’s got some kind of plan and Nightwing gave him something he needed,  _ just _ by finding me and bringing me here. Just watch your back, okay?”

Wally nodded, but echoed his earlier sentiment again. “We won’t let him hurt you.”

“Don’t let him hurt  _ you _ either,” Cisco insisted, “or Bart. Any of you could be his next target, or all of us.”

Wally nodded again. “He’s locked up. And we’ve got the team.”

Cisco sighed through his nose. He should have expected Wally wouldn’t take this seriously. As though no one had ever escaped from Iron Heights.

“I just mean, he’s got to do more than find you,” Wally said.

“Less than you think,” Cisco corrected, but that was straying into dangerous territory, where lay questions to which he had no comfortable answers.

Wally winced again, visibly. “You, need some rest,” he told Cisco, and Cisco couldn’t disagree. As he settled back against the pillows, adjusting himself to a more comfortable position, Wally picked up the tray Bart had brought him and left Cisco alone to sleep.

***

It was clear to Wally that Vibe had been hurt in ways that couldn’t be understood by just anyone. Being held captive for years, so terrified of his abductor that he couldn’t even try to escape. Being used by a shady government organization that had promptly turned on him the moment he was no longer useful. Living on the street because he was too afraid to go home. Wally couldn’t comprehend the trauma Vibe had been through, but he wanted to try. He wanted to do  _ something _ . He wanted the kid to feel safe, welcome on the team. To reassure him that the team would protect him, even if he didn’t want to join.

He walked at normal speed to the kitchen, carrying Vibe’s tray and thinking to himself. It was obvious that he had been wrong about Vibe not wanting to join because of him; quite the opposite in fact, of everyone on the team Vibe in fact had the strongest connection to him. Well, except for Charmer. Wally couldn’t deny that he felt that connection too, a sort of mutual responsibility for one another. Almost like family.

When he reached the kitchen, he found Dick, Kaldur and Conner all waiting for him.

“How’d it go?” Dick asked.

“He agreed to use the storerooms and safe houses,” Wally informed them, “but that’s all. He doesn’t think it’s safe to join the team.”

“Safe for him, or safe for us?” Kaldur wondered.

“Neither, I think,” Wally tells him. “The Reverse Flash did a number on him; he’s petrified of the guy.”

“At least he no longer believes we will enslave him,” Kaldur pointed out.

“It’s a start,” Dick agreed, “but we gotta find a way to convince him that the Reverse Flash isn’t getting out of Iron Heights.”

“And if his enemy does escape, we can protect him,” Kaldur added.

“Maybe we should consider just letting it go,” Conner suggested. “This kid spent years of his life having his every move controlled by a villain. Maybe he just needs more time to-”

“To end up starving to death somewhere in Opal City?” Dick interjects. “I’m not sitting by and letting that happen.”

“Careful what you say out loud,” Conner snapped. “You know what he can do.”

Dick sighed. “He saved your lives. It’s not very heroic not to protect him.”

“Certainly not when he is still trying to protect us,” Kaldur agrees.

“If he wants to leave, that’s his choice,” Conner says. “He’s been taken advantage of before. I can’t blame him for wanting to make his own choices.”

“And if he’s making those choices in order to self-destruct?” Wally asked. “The kid’s got some serious guilt going on, what if he’s  _ trying _ to-”

“Then we keep an eye on him,” Conner interrupted, “but we can’t force him to stay.”

“No one’s talking about forcing him,” Dick corrected. “We’re talking about convincing him.”

“The more we push the more he’s going to see it as force,” Conner said.

“Not with me,” Wally said thoughtfully. “He understands why I want him to stay, and he doesn’t doubt my motives. He trusts me.”

“That’s good,” Dick sounded optimistic. “Hopefully by the time he’s healed he’ll feel more at home here. Safer.”

“Why does he trust you so much?” Conner wanted to know. He didn’t sound accusatory, just curious. “He seemed pretty freaked out by you before, and when Bart used his speed.”

“It was the suit, and the speed,” Wally explained. “Once I stopped, he relaxed. He feels like there’s a connection between us. Via the speed force.”

“Do you?” Kaldur wondered.

“I’m not sure,” Wally admitted. “Yes?”

“Good,” said Dick decisively, “use it. Work on him until Charmer gets back, then she’ll help. We have until he heals to make him believe that here is safer than running.”

Wally nodded.

***

Gar knew his powers were something of a mixed blessing. Mostly he chose to look on the bright side, but the truth of the matter was that he’d never be able to be  _ normal _ again. He’d never blend into a crowd, never go to school, never have a secret identity like the others did. His powers did, however, have their advantages, especially for a nosy 13 year old.

The ability to be a literal fly on the wall for example.

“So?” asked Bart urgently as Gar transformed back into his human form in the living room of the residential wing. “What did they say? What’s the plan to get Vibe to stay?”

“They don’t really have a plan,” Gar told him, flopping down into an armchair. “Wally’s gonna ‘work on him’ until Charmer gets back. That’s all.”

“No no no,” Bart leaped up from the sofa and began to pace agitatedly. “They can’t leave this up to Charmer, they gotta have a plan of attack!”

“Could you not say it like that?” Jaime suggested. He was sitting on the sofa too, beside the place Bart had just vacated, and was now watching Bart pace with obvious trepidation.

“This is war Blue,” Bart declared, rounding on him, “a war against ignorance and fear. We gotta get Vibe to stay, failure is not an option!”

“Maybe we should cool it,” Jaime said, frowning. “I mean, guy’s been through a lot. Shouldn’t he be allowed to make his own choices?”

“That’s what Conner said,” Gar piped up. “He said maybe we should just let him leave.”

“No can do,” Bart shook his head vigorously. “I’m not letting another speed force conduit go hungry. It’s not humane.”

“How humane is it to force him to do something he doesn't want to do?” Jaime countered.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Bart argued. “To have the speed force in you and be really, truly hungry. It’s, it’s like your body’s eating itself, it’s-” he shuddered. “I can’t do it to him Blue.”

Jaime and Gar both stared at Bart. Bart didn’t like to talk about the future, about his time as a Reach slave. If he was bringing it up now, this must really be important to him.

“Alright  _ hermano, _ ” Jaime said carefully, “we’ll play it your way. What’s the plan?”

“BB,” Bart turned to Gar, “did you get any good intel from the meeting?”

Gat considered for a moment, thinking back to what he’d heard.

“Something Conner said,” he recalled, “about Vibe being controlled by a villain. He made it sound like it was one person.”

“If ARGUS is run by some supervillain then why hasn’t the government shut it down?” Jaime wondered.

“Because he’s not talking about ARGUS,” Bart realized. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Something else happened to him, something we don’t know about.”

“How much can one person go through and come out the other side?” Jaime looked horrified.

“You’d be surprised what you can live through,” Bart said seriously.

Jaime looked even more horrified, and Gar felt slightly sick.

Bart shook his head. “We need more intel,” he declared. “Once the coast is clear I’m doing recon.”

“What does that even mean?” Jaime moaned exasperatedly.

“I’m gonna talk to him,” Bart rolled his eyes. “BB, you watch the door. Nightwing’s not gonna want to overwhelm him, so when a member of his team visits they’re gonna wait a while before another one takes a crack at him. One of them goes out, one of us goes in.”

“Won’t  _ that _ overwhelm him though?” Jaime protested.

“Guy has no problems telling us to buzz off,” Bart shook his head. “It’s worth the risk.”

“You sure about this?” Gar asked.

“Positive,” Bart said firmly. “You in?”

Jaime sighed. “I’m in.”

The two of them looked at Gar.

Gar rolled his eyes. “Duh!”

***

For the first time in what felt like a long time, Cisco woke up alone. It was in the same place where he’d last fallen asleep, so he thanked his lucky stars for small mercies. His side still throbbed, but his headache had subsided, and that he was willing to count as another blessing.

After a few minutes of consciousness however, Cisco realized the drawback of not having a member of the team present to harass him. He was bored. Usually he would wake with an aching hunger that would drive him immediately up to find something to eat, but he was surprisingly not hungry and not in any fit state to get out of bed. He cast around the room, looking for something to hold his attention. There was a stack of books sitting on the nightstand, which he didn’t remember having been there before, but when he tried to read one of them he had the overwhelming sense that he should be doing something more useful and he found himself reading the same passage over and over.

He’d just set aside the third book and started counting the dust motes floating in the air when there came a noise from out in the hallway.

“Hello?” Cisco called without thinking, then nearly smacked himself in the face. His voice sounded practically  _ needy _ , as though desperate for attention, and attention was in fact the last thing he wanted.

Immediately the door opened and Wally poked his ginger head inside. “Yeah?” he said eagerly. “Can I get you something?”

“Uh,” Cisco’s brain stalled. He wanted something to  _ do _ , but there really wasn’t anything useful he could do until his injuries healed and he could get back out on the street, so he struggled for an idea.

“Bored?” Wally guessed with a smile. “Batman brought some books by earlier, if you want something to read. Or I could get you some food, or we could-”

“Do you have a chess set?” Cisco interrupted.

Wally blinked. “Uh, I think Aqualad has one.”

“Can I . . . can you ask him if I can see if, for a while?” Cisco asked nervously. “I won’t take up anyone’s time, I can play against myself.”

“Uh, sure,” Wally said, sounding surprised but no less enthusiastic. “I’ll ask him.”

Cisco only had to wait a few minutes before there came a knock at the door. He called for the person to come in, and Aqualad entered, carrying a wooden chess board and a box he could only assume contained the pieces. Behind him was Wally, pushing a little table that would extend over the bed, but he left as soon as the door was open, letting Aqualad pull it inside.

“Kid Flash tells me you enjoy chess,” he said, pushing the table so it extended over Cisco’s midsection and setting the board down on it.

Cisco shrugged. “It passes the time.”

“I am not very good or well practiced,” Aqualad replied “but if you would care for a game . . .”

Cisco swallowed, then nodded. “If you want.”

Wordlessly Aqualad began setting up the board. He gave Cisco the white side without comment, and Cisco chose not to comment either.

“It’s been about two years since I played,” Cisco warned him, “and I’ve literally never won a game.”

“Then this may be a more even match,” Aqualad said.

They began to play in silence, and Cisco found that it was oddly comfortable. He remembered chess as being a game of verbal sparring as much as physical moves, and it was nice to be able to concentrate on the board. Aqualad didn’t seem to mind either, and every time Cisco glanced up at him his attention was fixed on the pieces.

After about five minutes of playing Cisco had about half Aqualad’s pieces.

“I find it hard to believe you have never won a game,” Aqualad spoke up at last.

“I had an unforgiving teacher,” Cisco hedged, hoping Aqualad wouldn’t press the issue.

He glanced up in time to see Aqualad wince. “He never allowed you a single victory?” he asked. “Not even when you were learning?”

Cisco shook his head, trying to think of a way to explain. “He wasn’t the let-you-win type.”

Aqualad was silent for another few moments as Cisco deliberately edged his queen closer to Aqualad’s king. His opponent took the bait, trying twice to take her, but Cisco always managed to avoid his traps. He was just starting to lose himself in the game when Aqualad spoke again.

“I find it odd that such a man would choose to take on a pupil,” he remarked, not taking his eyes from the board even as Cisco looked up at him.

Cisco swallowed. “I think he was just bored,” he confessed. “He liked chess, but he didn’t have anyone to play with. It was one of the ways he made use of me.”

“There were other ways?” Aqualad prompted, frowning but still not looking up.

“Aside from the obvious?” Cisco replied. “I would help out in his lab.”

Aqualad looked trouble, and Cisco cast around for something to say to him.

“It wasn’t all bad,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “There were good days and bad days, obviously, but he taught me things.”

“Like chess,” Aqualad said.

“And science,” Cisco let a small smile slide onto his face. “I liked learning science.”

“What kinds of things did he teach you?” Aqualad asked. “About science?”

“Engineering mostly, but physics too, and biochem,” Cisco recalled. “A little of everything.”

“Why engineering?” Aqualad wondered.

Cisco shrugged. “I was good at it,” he speculated. “He didn’t like it. I think he thought it was beneath him, building stuff instead of working on all his lofty theories.”

“But you enjoyed it?” Aqualad asked. “Had you before?”

“I built my first computer when I was seven,” Cisco said proudly. “I’ve  _ always _ been good at building stuff.”

There were a few more more moments of silence during which Aqualad made another unsuccessful attempt on Cisco’s queen. Sensing that it was his turn to keep the conversation going, Cisco tried to think of something to say.

“So,” he began awkwardly, “who taught you chess?

“My mentor,” Aqualad replied, frowning at the board as if confused by it. “Although the game is somewhat different in Atlantis.”

Aqualad finally managed to take Cisco’s queen, leaving his king wide open for the bishop Cisco had been sneaking toward it.

“Check,” he said.

Aqualad stared at the board for a few more moments, then knocked over his king.

“Well,” Aqualad smiled slightly, “you can no longer say you have never won a game.”

Cisco stared at the board, more than a little flabbergasted. That was it? Aqualad was just going to give up? He had no clever trick, no trap Cisco had fallen into? Cisco studied the positions or Aqualad’s remaining pieces. Where was the strategy he had somehow accidentally foiled?

“You seem surprised,” Aqualad noted.

Cisco reached the only conclusion he could. “You let me win.”

“That would imply that I have the skill,” Aqualad pointed out. “I assure you, I am not that well versed in the game.”

Cisco looked back at the board, studying it again. What was he missing?

“It seems you are a better player than you give yourself credit for,” Aqualad concluded, as though this were the only logical conclusion to reach.

“Um,” Cisco didn’t know what to say. He’d never been praised like that before, and certainly not on his chess prowess.

Aqualad gave him a knowing smile, and he cleared his throat self-consciously.

“So,” he said weakly, “you said there was a version of this back in Atlantis? Do you have anyone to play that against?”

“Not on the team,” Aqualad said as he began to set up the board again, “but occasionally my mentor has time to indulge me.”

Cisco chewed his lip as he considered his opening move. He glanced up, then quickly back down again. “Maybe . . . if I’m recovering for a while, I could . . .”

“I learned surface chss in order to bond with those here,” Aqualad explained, “only to discover the game was not as popular. I would be glad to teach you Atlantian chess.”

Cisco nodded, then moved one of his pawns. He did not allow himself to think of what he’d just done, or what it might potentially mean.

***

As soon as Gar reported back that Kaldur had left Vibe alone, Bart raced immediately for the door.  He made a quick trip to the kitchen and then headed straight for Vibe’s room, at which point he forced himself to slow down. He knew that Kaldur had a way of making people go all contemplative, and startling Vibe in that state was probably not the best thing for his cause. He paused outside the door, straightened his clothes and hair, and knocked.

“Yeah?” came a tentative voice from inside.

Bart opened the door and poked his head in. “Snack time?” he asked, waving a back of freeze dried chicken whizzies.

Vibe shrugged. “Not gonna turn it down.”

Bart entered, then closed the door behind himself as quietly as he could. There was a chair sitting beside the bed, probably the one Kaldur had been using, and Bart took it before handing Vibe the bag. Vibe opened it immediately and began shoving food into his mouth at a rate that contradicted his nonchalance. Bart fought the urge to wince. It was clear that Vibe was a lot hungrier than he was willing to let on. They’d have to be carefully about offering him food as regularly as they could. 

Vibe finished the bag in record time, then set it aside and looked at Bart expectantly. “So?” he said.

“So?” Bart repeated.

“You didn’t come in here just to offer me a snack,” Vibe said.

“Says who?” Bart asked. “I can have no better reason for coming in here than to extend our hospitality-”

“Kid,” Vibe interrupted, “you’re burning with questions so hard you’re practically smoking.”

Bart ducked his head and looked away, chagrined. Was he that obvious?

“Go ahead,” Vibe rolled his eyes. “Ask.”

Bart took a deep breath. “How are you feeling?” he began. “Where are you gonna go when you leave here? Where are you from anyway? Do you have a family? Are there other people with powers like you? Like a Vibe Family? How do your powers work? Are you-”

“Whoa kid,” said Vibe suddenly, stemming the tide of questions. “You’re talking, like, a little faster than I can follow.”

“What?” asked Bart, then realized with a start that his body was thrumming with superhuman speed. He’d been talking much faster than a normal human could understand.

“SorryI’lltrytoslowdow,” Bart said, wincing as he realized that was still probably too fast.

“Like, slower than that,” Vibe encouraged, staring at Bart as though deeply bemused by him.

“Sorry,” Bart said again.

“Take a deep breath,” Vibe suggested, “then start with the first thing you asked.”

Bart took another deep breath. “How are you feeling?” he asked, slowly this time.

“Better,” Vibe felt gingerly at his stitches. “Still hurts though.”

“It’d hurt less if you took more pain meds,” Bart suggested. “Advil can’t be enough for an injury like that.”

Vibe shook his head. “I don’t like not being in control of my body.”

“Me either,” Bart said quickly, then winced and slowed down. “I’ve been there, and it’s not fun.”

Vibe frowned. “You have that metabolism thing. How can drugs affect you?”

It was Bart’s turn to shake his head. “Not meds, literally. Not being able to use my speed is way beyond mode.”

Vibe blinked, then tilted his head as though looking at Bart from a new angle might make him make more sense.

“Were you a prisoner of the Reach?” he guessed.

“You could say that,” Bart hedged. “You wouldn’t be wrong.”

Vibe opened his mouth to ask more, but Bart cut him off. “So, no super metabolism for you, huh? Why not?”

Vibe shrugged. “Guess I just didn’t get lucky.”

“But you got the speed force,” Bart protested. “That don’t come cheap.”

Bart would be lying to say that this issue wasn’t at the crux of his curiosity. He’d been fascinated by the speed force even since he’d learned he was a conduit of it, and that his family had been conduits as well. It was something that bound them together, something that couldn’t be denied. He didn’t know how Vibe fit into all of that, but he knew that there was a connection. 

“I didn’t get the speed force,” Vibe said, frowning. “Just a  . . . connection.”

Bart blinked. “Isn’t that how it works?” he asked. “A connection? Isn’t that how you get superspeed?”

“I don’t . . . have superspeed,” Vibe said.

Bart looked at Vibe in confusion, feeling his heart sink. Access to the speed force, but no speed? That didn’t seem fair at all. Vibe had to be a member of the speed family. Didn’t he?

“I’m not like you and Wally, Bart,” Vibe continued gently. “I’m not a speedster. Think of it this way: if the speed force is like your mother, then she’s my crazy aunt who sends me weird eclectic stuff from all her adventures with you.”

“Oh,” said Bart, as his voice sounded as crestfallen as he felt. “Do you wish you were a speedster then?”

Vibe seemed to consider this for a moment. “Not really,” he said at last. “You guys seem pretty obsessed with who’s the fastest. I kinda like being able to slow things down.”

Bart was still a little confused, but nodded. “That’s cool, that’s cool.”

Vibe looked away self-consciously, then back at Bart. “I heard something about family in there, I think. You were talking kinda fast dude.”

“Vibe Family!” Bart perked up. “Like the speed family or the bat family! Is there one? Anyone else in your family have powers? Are there more of you?”

Vibe frowned. “I don’t think so. I don’t . . . have a family.”

Bart opened his mouth to protest that everyone had a family, but a memory stopped him. The way some people from his time as a Reach slave used to talk. The way Nathaniel used to talk.

“That’s rough dude,” he said instead, looking down. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Vibe shrugged, then winced as it jostled his stitches. He lifted up his shirt to examine the wound, and it was Bart’s turn to wince.

“You sure you don’t want something for that dude?” Bart offered. “It looks like it hurts.”

Vibe shook his head. “I’ve had worse. Being clearheaded is worth it.”

“Worse than that?” Bart asked. “Without pain meds? Dude, ouch.”

Vibe tried to hide the wound again, under his shirt, under the blankets. “Didn’t say it wasn’t bad, just that I’ve had worse.”

“You got scars?” Bart asked.

“Some,” Vibe admitted. He rolled his shoulders slightly, as though feeling a phantom pain on his back. Bart opened his mouth to ask, but before he could Vibe showed Bart his hand, pointing to a series of raised crisscrossing pink lines.

“These,” he said, “and others.”

Bart took his hand, gently tracing the scars with his finger. “How’d you get ‘em?”

Vibe withdrew his hand. “Learning.”

Bart nodded. He had his own marks from learning how the Reach wanted him to behave.

“I got scars too,” Bart told him.

“How?” Vibe asked, frowning.

Bart shrugged. “Learning.”

Vibe shook his head. “What do you want from me kid?”

“Dunno,” Bart admitted with a shrug. “Just to show you that you don’t have to be scared of us.”

“Well I’m certainly not afraid of  _ you _ ,” Vibe rolled his eyes. “I could stop you in your tracks.”

“The way you act around me says different,” Bart noted, and Vibe started as though Bart had surprised him. “Besides, you could, but I don’t think you would.”

“Of course not,” Vibe said seriously. “You’re one of the good guys. I’ve spent half my life trying not to hurt you.”

Now it was Bart’s turn to be startled. “Well, that’s  . . . nice,” he said awkwardly. “Not a lottapeoplewhocansaythat.”

Vibe blinked, and Bart wondered if he’d have to repeat himself, but it seemed as though Vibe had been merely looking for what to say, and at last he settled on, “I’m not most people.”

Bart _ beamed _ at him, and Vibe tilted his head again, giving Bart another contemplative look.

“You can contact me too you know,” he offered. “Through the speed force. I told Wally, but you should know too. If you need me, you can find me.”

“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with us?” Bart asked, tilting his head in wide-eyed innocence, but he couldn’t hide his knowing grin.

Vibe glowered. “I said I didn’t want to stay here, not that I wouldn’t help. I’ve helped you before, I don’t know why you’re surprised.

“Fair enough, fair enough,” Bart shrugged. “Don’t see why you’re not willing to let us return the favor, is all.”

“Protecting Charmer is enough,” Vibe told him. Bart gave his best disapproving look, and Vibe rolled his eyes and went on. “Besides, you’re a speedster, and my powers are designed to counter yours. I’m pretty sure that makes you my problem.”

“You’re the one with stitches who keeps fainting on us,” Bart pointed out.

“I only passed out because your safe house blew up,” Vibe countered. “Honestly, you people need round the clock protection.”

“Job’s yours if you want it,” Bart said cheekily.

Vibe sighed. “Walked right into that one didn’t I?”

“Yup!” Bart beamed.

“Look, kid, I can’t stay here,” Vibe told him.

“Why not?” Bart whined. “You’re a hero, we’re a team of heroes, it just makes sense.”

Vibe hesitated a moment. “Because it’s not safe, for you or me. There are people in this world who would kill you just for sheltering me, and I’m not about to run the risk of getting used again.”

Bart frowned. “We already get people trying to kill us, and wouldn’t it be safer if we  _ all _ worked together? And we wouldn’t use you. It’s not like that, not here.”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Vibe sighed. “You’ve never been someone’s . . . someone’s tool before.”

Bart absently rubbed at the back of his neck. “I do understand.”

Vibe narrowed his eyes, taking in Bart’s expression. He seemed to be looking at Bart more closely than before, as though seeing him for the first time. Bart weathered his scrutiny, trying to keep his expression sincere. Eventually Vibe appeared to decide that he had seen something important, and he seemed likely to press the issue. Bart decided a change of tactics was in order.

“You and Charmer could be partners,” he wheedled.

Vibe looked at him, frowning a little deeper. “She’s safer with a whole team.”

“None of us is as strong as all of us,” Bart pointed out. “With you on our side she’d be safer than ever.”

“Where’d you get that line?” Vibe wondered. “A fortune cookie?”

“Something Aqualad said,” Bart corrected. “Guy talks like a fortune teller machine when he’s being all leadery.”

“Seems like it,” Vibe admitted, then paused. “What’s he like as a leader? You all . . . trust him?”

Bart shrugged. “He wants Nightwing to take back over now that he’s back, but they’re both good. They care about the team. They know our weaknesses and help us play to our strengths. They both want us to grow.”

“They’re honest with you,” Vibe prompts.

There was a split second when Bart hesitated. He wanted to say always, but they did lie about Kaldur’s deep cover mission. “When it won’t hurt anyone,” he said instead, knowing it sounded weak.

Vibe seemed to understand though, and his expression didn’t change.

“Who do they answer to?” he wondered.

“Batman, I think,” Bart said, wondering where Vibe was going with this.

Vibe bit his lip, then looked away. He looked troubled, as though he were wrestling with something internally.

“You ok?” Bart asked, worried.

“Yeah,” Vibe said as though on a reflex. “I just . . . it’s hard to know who to trust, you know? The Justice League are the good guys, I know that, but . . .”

Bart nodded. “Trust isn’t something to give away. We just hope we’ll be able to prove you can trust us.”

“Why do you trust them?” Vibe asked earnestly, and his voice sounded almost pained, like it hurt him to question the League.

“They’re . . . family,” Bart felt like he’d been asked to explain why two and two made four. “They care about me. Not just what I am.”

“Your real family though,” Vibe pointed out. “By blood.”

Bart looked down. He’d known he might have to do something like this, but this mission was important. He couldn’t let his hang ups get in the way.

“I never met my dad,” he confessed. “Just heard stories about him and my aunt. And my mom . . . I was about five. When we were separated.”

He looked up, and he could feel the beginning of tears behind his eyes.. “Family’s what you make it.”

Vibe looked down.  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I was taken from my family when I was nine. I haven’t seen them in eight years. I don’t even know if they’re still alive.”

“We could find out for you, if you want,” Bart offered.

“No,” Vibe shook his head. “At this point it’s better if I stay lost.”

Bart deflated a little. “Don’t you at least want to know if they’re ok?”

Vibe clutched hard at the blankets. “I’m . . . not sure I’m ready to find out.”

Bart nodded, a little reluctantly. “I guess that’s fair.”

Suddenly Vibe pasted a smile onto his face. “Charmer’s my family,” he said, with obviously forced cheer, “and you’re keeping her safe. That’s all I can ask for.”

“Just let us know,” Bart said. “If you change your mind.”

“I meant what I said too,” Vibe told him. “If you need me I’ll be there.”

“I could easily abuse that system you know,” Bart pointed out.

“But you won’t,” Vibe smiled knowingly, “because you’re a hero and you don’t act like that.”

Bart grinned. “Aqualad wants you to kick his butt at chess again.”

“I’m still surprised I can kick anyone’s butt at chess,” Vibe admitted. “You got somewhere to be?”

“I’m meeting Wally for a run,” Bart jumped to his feet. “He can’t be that much faster than me.”

“He can lap you now huh,” Vibe recalled. “Must eat you up.”

“Nah,” Bart said dismissively, stretching. “Doesn’t matter all that much. We’re all on the same team, as long as one of us is fast enough everything’s crash.”

“I see,” Vibe said, and Bart thought that perhaps he might be telling the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always comments are love and remember to thank your friendly neighborhood hedgi!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIIIIIIVE! i know i took a little break for the end of the semester but i have not forgotten you my lovelies. please don't forget hedgi when showing your appreciation.

Bruce Wayne was someone who liked to go into situations as prepared as possible.

He’d been getting regular reports from Dick about Vibe’s condition, both physical and emotional, and things were not progressing as he’d hoped. While Kaldur thought that Vibe no longer believed the team intended for force him into anything Dick wasn’t so sure, and Bruce was inclined to trust Dick’s judgement. Everyone who’d met with him described Vibe as on edge, and nothing seemed to lessen his anxiety. He still, by all accounts, intended to leave as soon as he was strong enough.

Bruce looked into the kid’s ARGUS file, naturally. It didn’t tell him much he didn’t already know, except Vibe’s real name and a little of his history. He resolved not to add the information to the League database. He kept a copy for himself, and he could always find it again if he needed it.

In the end though reports could only give him so much information. He needed to lay eyes on the kid, form an opinion for himself, and then he could act. Vibe was in serious danger if he stayed out on the streets of Opal City during the winter, while fighting crime no less. It was only a matter of time before he got hurt more seriously than he already had. Someone needed to do something.

He took a quick look at the Iron Heights database before deciding on his opening move. File in hand, he made his way to the residential wing of the Hall of Justice. Most of the team’s members gave him a wide berth as he headed for Vibe’s room, though not all of them. It was good to see Wally, particularly the way he didn’t seem at all worse for wear. He felt guilty; many of them felt guilty. That would subside once this was resolved.

“Come in,” came the answering call when Bruce knocked on the sickroom door. He opened it, careful not to enter too quickly and startle the room’s occupant.

Most of his intelligence said that Vibe was somewhat undersized, but none of the reports could have prepared him for how small the kid was. He was short for his age, sleekly muscled, but he was painfully thin as though he hadn’t eaten properly in well longer than he’d been on the street. His hair was long and unkempt, and his eyes had the same hooded quality Bruce had seen in too many of the children he’d come to know. Vibe was sitting up in bed, a rolling table stretched over his lap and a chessboard set up as though in the middle of a game. Or rather, the end of a game. One side had the other in check.

Vibe did a double take when he saw Bruce standing in the doorway, sitting up straighter in bed. He looked startled, but he met Bruce’s gaze with sharp eyes. He said nothing, but pushed the table further down his body and pushed himself further up on his pillows.

Wordlessly Bruce handed him the file he was carrying. Vibe took it, eyeing him warily, but he spread the document out over the blankets covering his lap.

“Schematics for the speedster containment unit?” he asked once he’d examined them.

“The one used to contain the Reverse-Flash in Iron Heights,” Bruce confirmed.

Vibe looked Bruce, then at the papers in his lap, then back at Bruce. “Why are you showing me this?”

“I want to know if you see a flaw in the design,” Bruce explained. “Aqualad told me you had a head for engineering.”

Vibe looked back at the schematics, eyes flicking over the clean lines and neat rows of numbers. He traced the words with his fingers, and Bruce noted with some alarm that his hands were shaking.

“Nothing’s jumping out at me,” he admitted after a moment, “but I’m sure if I had more time I could improve the design. I can do it, I just need-”

“You can keep the schematics as long as you like,” Bruce assured him, “and you don’t need to do anything with them. I just wanted you to know how he was being contained.’

“Oh,” Vibe blinked. “Thank you?”

“No problem,” said Bruce. He glanced at the bedside table. “How are you enjoying the books?”

“Books?” Vibe blinked again, then his eyes snapped to the stack of novels. “Oh! I wasn’t sure whose they were.” 

“They’re mine,” Bruce told him. “I enjoyed them when I was your age. I thought you might be bored.”

Vibe glanced pointedly at the chessboard he’d been poring over. “This is a better use of my time,” he explained.

“Chess is fun,” Bruce admitted, “but so is fiction.”

“Chess is good tactical training,” Vibe sounded like he was parroting someone else.

“Do you enjoy it?” Bruce wondered.

“Yes,” Vibe said firmly. He sounded like he was telling himself as much as Bruce.

Bruce wondered if it would do more harm than good to ask for a game. It might help him gauge the kid’s mental state, but he didn’t know what effect winning  _ or _ losing against Batman would have on the kid. He could try to guide it so that it ended in a draw, but it was risky.

In the end the choice was taken out of his hands. “You wanna play?” Vibe asked, glancing at the chessboard.

Bruce wasn’t about to refuse.

“Did you look at the books at all?” he asked, pulling the one chair by the bed closer.

“They made me feel like I was wasting time,” Vibe admitted as he set up the board. “It made me nervous.”

“Time is something you have plenty of while you recover,” Bruce assured him. “Is there anything we can do to help you feel less nervous?”

“Black or white?” Vibe asked.

“Black,” Bruce said after a split second’s deliberation.

Vibe turned the chessboard so the the black pieces were in front of Bruce. “How about you stop pretending?”

“Something pretentious about my choice of pieces?” Bruce deadpanned.

“Tell me what you plan to do with me when I get better enough to leave,” Vibe insisted.

Vibe moved a pawn, and Bruce moved one in answer. It seemed Kaldur had been mistaken.

“That’s up to you,” Bruce said as Vibe moved again. “If you want to leave, we’ll worry, but we won’t stop you.”

“Even if I believed that,” Vibe castled his king and Bruce did the same, “you expect me to buy that you wouldn’t keep tabs on me?”

“I said we wouldn’t stop you. I keep an eye on a lot of people who might be in danger-” Bruce took the first piece of the game, one of Vibe’s pawns, “-but we won’t interfere.”

Vibe frowned, staring at the board in concentration. “Why am I getting shelved with the people who are  _ in _ danger? Didn’t the others tell you I was trained to kill one of your friends?”

“My friend isn’t the one lying in bed with thirteen stitches in his side,” Bruce reminded him.

“I’m in the best shape of my life!” Vibe looked up from the board to glare defensively.

Bruce met his eye. “That’s exactly why we’re concerned.”

Vibe turned his attention back to the game. “Whatever you’re thinking, I won’t be easy to contain,” Vibe took Bruce’s pawn with his knight. “ARGUS tried. They couldn’t hold me.”

“We’re concerned about your safety living on the streets,” Bruce informed him. “We have no intention of holding you against your will, though we’d prefer you allow yourself to recover before leaving.”

“Since when is safety your priority?” Vibe wanted to know. He took Bruce’s knight with one of his pawns.

“You used the same line on Aqualad,” Bruce noted, taking the pawn with his queen. “It won’t work on me. Safety is always a priority, no matter the mission.”

Vibe shook his head as though to clear it. “The safety of civilians.”

“The safety of everyone,” Bruce corrected. Vibe blinked, and Bruce took his knight with a bishop. “We aren’t ARGUS, Cisco.”

Vibe flinched at the use of his given name, and Bruce filed that information away, adding it to what he already knew. How had his captors addressed him in the past? How far had the dehumanization gone?

“ARGUS wasn’t  _ him _ ,” Vibe pointed out, moving a pawn. A safe move. “Everywhere is a little different.”

Bruce nodded, understanding. He needed something to break through Vibe’s indifference, something that wouldn’t have been used by any of his captors. He was used to places where nothing was sacred.

“I swear on my parents’ memory, we won’t imprison or harm you.”

Vibe paused with his hand hovering over the board. He stared at Bruce, eyes wide and confused. He seemed to be considering.

“I don’t expect you to believe us,” Bruce went on. “You’ve been through a lot. But I am serious. We won’t hurt you. We won’t cage you. We won’t force you to do anything you don't want to do.”

Vibe was quiet for a moment. He contemplated the board, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I don’t understand,” he admitted, not looking up. “Why?”

“Because you haven’t done anything to deserve being locked up,” Bruce explained. “You’re not a criminal.”

“And because I’m not a criminal you’re willing to do all this for me?” Vibe challenged, gesturing at the chessboard and the stack of books.

“You risked your life for the team,” Bruce reminded him, “multiple times. You came to harm protecting civilians. This is the least we can do.”

“But I won’t do it again,” Vibe protested. “I won’t stay with the team, why protect an asset you can’t use?”

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “You’re not an asset,” he said, “you’re a person. A minor. And you’ve suffered because of our enemies. Member of the team or not, we owe you.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Vibe shook his head.

“Perhaps it doesn’t,” Bruce said, “but all the same, we’re going to help you get well and you’re free to go afterward.”

Vibe looked lost, caught between confusion and distress, and Bruce felt his chest tighten. Every instinct was screaming at him to fold this kid into his protection. He wanted Cisco Ramon to get to go to school again like a normal kid. To go to college and spend years finding himself away from everything he was before. To get a job at STAR Labs and become a member of his field so well respected he’d never again question his own value.

“Why do you care?” Vibe asked, shaking his head.

“Because someone has to,” Bruce told him.

Vibe raised an eyebrow, and Bruce’s lip twitched into a small smile. He knocked over his king and stood up.

“Think about it,” he encouraged, then swept from the room.

***

Cisco was coming to accept that regular visits were just something that was going to happen until he got better.

He really did want to pick apart Aqualad’s strategy, maybe even play a game or two against himself like he said he would, but he never seemed to find the time. The moment he was alone with the chessboard someone else would poke their head in and ask if he was free. He didn’t want to be rude, so he found himself entertaining visitor after visitor. Bart kept bringing him food. Nightwing came to talk to him again. Black Canary came back, and he found himself telling her more than he’d meant to about his time with ARGUS. After one particularly nerve-wracking visit with Batman Cisco managed to fall into a light doze, and when he woke up a pair of heavy boots and a new jacket just like his old one were sitting innocently on the dresser.

At last Cisco managed to get a few moments’ peace to look at the reconstruction of the chess game he’d created from memory. He went over Aqualad’s moves one by one, carefully examining all the pieces. He had just about decided he was onto something when a hesitant knock came from the open door.

“Knock knock,” Artemis said, leaning against the doorframe as though trying to make herself appear smaller.

Cisco pushed the board away with a sigh, then scrounged up a smile from the dregs of his emotional resources. This was getting very tiring.

“Aaand what can I do for you?” he asked, with only slightly sarcastic cheer. Really, he was very proud of himself.

“I just wanted to thank you,” Artemis stepped more fully into the room, her hands going to the back of the chair but making no move to sit down.

“Already did that,” Cisco reminded her. “You’re welcome, call me if your boyfriend needs resurrecting again.”

Artemis’s expression shifted, until Cisco thought that she looked almost peeved. “You don’t have to be so flippant you know,” she said. “What you did for us, what it almost cost you, it’s nothing to sneeze at.”

“Didn’t cost me anything, in the long run,” Cisco assured her. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh really?” Artemis raised an eyebrow, nodding at the wound in Cisco’s side.

“Got that on my own,” Cisco argued. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“You got it defending the innocent,” Artemis pointed out. “That’s what the League does. On that night, you were somewhere the League couldn’t be.”

“It was nothing,” Cisco grumbled, trying to look away.

“It was heroic,” Artemis corrected, holding his gaze.

Cisco squirmed uncomfortably under her scrutiny. “Look,” he said candidly, “I spent years training to hurt people. Helping them now isn’t heroic, it’s just . . . fair.”

Artemis, to his great surprise, laughed.

“I was trained to hurt people,” she informed him. “Half the team was raised or created or training to hurt people. Your only responsibility is to not hurt them. Saving them, that’s above and beyond, that’s  _ more _ . That’s heroic. And yeah, you almost died saving my boyfriend and then you almost died again saving my friends so you’re gonna accept our gratitude danggit.”

Cisco blinked at her. “I’m sorry?” he said cautiously. “I just . . . it seemed like the only choice. I never thought of doing anything else.”

“That’s because you’re a hero,” Artemis said smugly.

Cisco looked away. “I think I have some stuff to make up for before I can call myself a hero.”

“Dude, you save, what, four lives?” Artemis laughed again. “You brought Wally back from the dead. What more do you think it’s gonna  _ take _ ?”

“I don’t know,” Cisco admitted. “But I know I’m not a hero yet. I can’t be.”

Artemis gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like “bullshit.”

Cisco glowered at her. “And you know  _ what _ about me, exactly?”

“I know that you didn’t stop trying to save Wally even when it hurt you,” Artemis said. “And you didn’t even ask for anything for yourself, not even five bucks for a crumby pizza.”

“I asked for you to protect Charmer,” Cisco corrected. “It was a fair trade, that doesn’t count as  _ heroic. _ ”

“She protects us as much as we protect her, that’s the fair trade,” Artemis insisted. “You could have tried once and given up, Nightwing would have honored the deal, but you  _ didn’t. _ You got nothing for yourself out of nearly killing yourself to save someone.”

“How could I have stopped when I knew I could save him?” Cisco countered. “I couldn’t have let him stay lost, not after everything I’ve-” he cut himself off, looking away.

“No one would have known,” Artemis replied, “not even me. You’re a hero because of that. Whatever you did before, whatever you think you need to make up for? You  _ have _ . If not with Wally, then when you got stabbed saving someone. When you risked your life again saving Superboy and Bart and Gar.”

Cisco stared at her. He wasn’t entirely sure she knew what she was saying, forgiving him like this, but it made him feel pleasantly warm inside. It felt like a weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying had been lifted.

Artemis crossed her arms over her chest defensively, like she’d said too much. “So just, let us thank you properly. And stop beating yourself up.”

“What do you have in mind for a proper thank you?” Cisco wondered. “I can’t stay here, it’s not safe for anyone. I need to disappear before . . . before I’m found.”

“Safer than a cardboard box in some alley,” Artemis retorted skeptically.

“Not as safe as being somewhere no one can find me,” Cisco corrected.

Artemis shook her head as though lamenting his stubbornness. “Then let us give you some cash for a real place to live.”

Cisco bit his lip, thinking. That  _ would _ make things easier, but . . .

“I didn’t do this for money,” he said.

Artemis huffed. “I didn’t either, but that didn’t stop Batman from sponsoring my education.”

Cisco blinked. “What?”

“You think I’m paying for Ivy University and a palo alto apartment on part-part-part time barista gigs?” Artemis asked incredulously. “Fat chance.”

Cisco stared at her, his entire understanding of the world suddenly rearranging itself.

“We take care of our own,” she went on. “You’re one of us now, whether you stay here or not, so just take it.”

Alarm bells started ringing in Cisco’s head. “I don’t owe you anything,” he shifted a little, away from her. “I don’t belong to you.”

“Didn’t say you did,” she held her ground, “but you made yourself one of us as soon as you saved Wally. You can be a part of something without it owning you.”

Cisco looked at her skeptically. “I just want to be me. If you wanna thank me so bad you can leave me alone. You’ve done  _ more _ than enough, so whatever guilt or whatever’s on  _ your _ conscious, you can stop.”

“I know you’re scared,” Artemis tried. “I know what you’ve been through-”

“I guess Nightwing’s broadcasting that over the airwaves now,” Cisco snapped. He suddenly felt stupid for letting himself relax as much as he had. Of course these people couldn’t be trusted. No one could be trusted.

“Why do I even bother?” Artemis threw up her hands in exasperation.

“Beats me,” Cisco scoffed, “I sure didn’t ask.”

“You don’t have to ask,” Artemis shot back, voice rising, “just like I didn’t have to ask when I was your age.”

Cisco huffed. “Funny way of saying thank you, yelling at an invalid.”

“Maybe it’s what you need to get this through your thick skull,” she replied. “Let us help you, or you’re gonna end up dead.”

“Maybe that would be best for everyone!” Cisco shouted.

Artemis did not react to his raised voice, nor did she even twitch at his statement. “Wouldn’t be best for Wally,” she said, “or Bart. Sure wouldn’t be best for Charmer, she loves you.”

Cisco curled in on himself. Many many people would be better off if he weren’t in the world, but the thought of leaving Cindy alone made his stomach roil.

Artemis sighed. “You don’t have to listen to me,” she said, more tired than gentle, “but whatever makes you think your life has no value? It’s lying to you. There are people in this world who care about you; they’re here, and they want to help you. Think about that.”

Cisco said nothing, and after a few moments of awkward silence Artemis turned to leave.

“Wait,” Cisco called, and she turned back. He did not look at her, but rather down at his hands. “I’ll take it. I just . . . I want to be clear. I don’t belong to anything or anyone. I’ve been someone’s property, and I can’t do it again. I won’t.”

He looked up, and found that her expression had gone tight at that. She nodded. “We’re not buying your powers or your services or  _ you _ . We’re giving you your life back from whatever took it from you, the way you gave Wally back to us.”

Cisco nodded. “A fair trade.”

Artemis’s lips twitched into a smile. “Seems fair to me.”

She turned around again and left him to the chessboard.

***

“What happened?” asked Wally when Artemis met him in the kitchen, folding her instinctively into his arms. “I heard shouting.”

“I said the wrong thing,” she replied, “but then I think I said the right thing.”

He gave her a kiss. “That’s your specialty.”

***

Jaime knew it was a risk to wait, but he wanted to give Vibe a break.

People had been in and out of his room all day. Canary, Artemis, even Batman had come, and Jaime couldn’t help but wonder what  _ that _ had been about. Jaime had tried to visit after Batman had left, but Vibe had been asleep, and it was a good thing too; he’d narrowly avoided being caught when Nightwing came to drop off a new jacket and pair of boots. That was good at least. Vibe would need those, whether he was staying or going.

After Artemis left Jaime knew the others wouldn’t let Vibe go too long without company, but he still wanted to give Vibe half an hour to recover. It wasn’t fair to overwhelm him like that, when he couldn’t really leave or tell them to buzz off.

“Come on Blue,” Bart said, trying to shove him in the back, “time’s a wastin’!”

“We gotta let him rest,” Jaime dug in his heels.

“But!” Bart protested. “Strategy!”

“It’s my turn,” Jaime insisted. “I’ll do it my way.”

He couldn’t hold Bart off forever, so twenty seven minutes after Artemis’s departure Jaime found himself poking his head into Vibe’s room.

“Hey,” he called, “you busy?”

“Just trying to figure something out,” Vibe replied, frowning at the chessboard that had taken up residence on the rolling table extended over his bed. He shifted, then pushed the table aside and looked at Jaime expectantly.

“That’s cool,” Jaime scuffed his foot on the floor. “I was just heading out on a mission. Wasn’t sure if you’d be here when I got back.”

This was not technically a lie, he reasoned. He  _ would _ be going on a mission, just not until the evening.

Vibe tensed a little. “Can’t go anywhere like this,” he indicated the stitched up stabwound.

“Right,” Jaime nodded, continuing to hover in the doorway.

“You might as well come in,” Vibe said resignedly. “Unless you have to leave right now, there’s no use standing in the hall when you obviously have something to say.”

Jaime came into the room, nudging the door closed behind him. “How are you feeling? I know you said you didn’t want  _ strong _ pain meds, but I could get you, like, an advil or something.”

Vibe took a deep breath, as though testing how much it would hurt, and he winced just a little. “I’m fine,” he said anyway. “I’ve had worse than this with nothing for the pain, and I took an advil this morning. The only thing I need is time to heal, which is about the one thing I don’t have.”

Jaime was a little doubtful of that, but he didn’t press the issue. “You’d let us know if you changed your mind about something to help with the pain though, right?”

“I promise,” said Vibe, smiling indulgently up at Jaime.

“And you’ll tell us before you leave?” Jaime pressed.

Vibe nodded. “But you’re not talking me out of it. I know that’s what you came in here to do.”

_ (“Recommended tactic: lie”) _ suggested the scarab.

“I’m not lying,” Jaime said aloud.

Vibe frowned. “I didn’t say you were lying . . .” he said, a bit uneasily.

_ (“I mentioned earlier that the Vibe is suffering from what you would call Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,”) _ the scarab said.  _ (“He will not respond well to a direct assault. He will find it suspicious.”) _

“No one’s assaulting anyone!” Jaime protested.

Now Vibe definitely looked uneasy. He sat up more in bed, eyeing Jaime warily, and shifted beneath the covers as though bracing himself.

“Jaime,” he said carefully. “Why did you say that?”

Jaime winced. “I’m just . . . it’s the scarab.”

Vibe blinked. “The scarab?”

Jaime turned around and lifted up his shirt, revealing the scarab on his back. “It’s where the armor comes from,” he explained. “He, has a mind of his own, and he’s fused to my spine so I can hear his voice in my head. He recommended that lying would be better than a direct assault.”

“Lying about what?” Vibe asked, sounding no less alarmed.

“Wanting you to stay,” Jaime said.

“How do you mean?” Vibe asked. “Lying to keep me here? Or do you not actually want-”

“Neither,” Jaime cut him off. “He says you have PTSD, and that you won’t want someone flat out asking you to stay. You’ll find it suspicious.”

_ (“Affirmative,”) _ added the scarab, with just a hint of what might be considered a tone.

“Well he’s not wrong,” Vibe admitted. “Generally when people want me to do something it turns out to be something I regret.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaime said, trying to sound genuine. “You deserve better than what people did to you.”

“So do you,” Vibe shrugged. “Bad things happen, sometimes to good people. The important thing is to learn from it.”

“Yeah,” Jaime said, wondering whether that was a healthy attitude or not. It seemed very positive, but the lessons Vibe had taken didn’t seem to be serving him well.

“Like you,” Vibe went on. “You won’t put yourself in a position to be controlled again.”

“No,” Jaime conceded. “Unless it were the scarab himself.”

“What?” Vibe frowned, looking concerned.

“The scarab can actually take control of me,” Jaime explained. “He can fight for me, if I need him to.”

Vibe’s eyes were wide and wary. “So you mean, you’re like a passenger in your own body?”

“I guess,” Jaime shrugged, trying to sound casual, “but it’s not a big deal-”

“Can he do it whenever he wants?” Vibe pressed without giving Jaime a chance to finish. “Or do you have to give him permission?”

“I, don’t know,” Jaime confessed. “But I know he  _ wouldn’t _ -”

_ (“Negative,”) _ said the scarab.  _ (“If we were in a dire situation and it was necessary to save your life, I would take control away from you.”) _

“You’re not helping!” Jaime tossed the accusation over his shoulder, trying to make it clear he was not speaking to Vibe.

_ (“I would return control to you when the danger had passed,”) _ the scarab replied placatingly, but Vibe couldn’t hear him, and he was looking increasingly distressed as the conversation went on.

“Can’t you get it off?” Vibe wanted to know.

Jaime winced, knowing how this was going to sound. “No,” he admitted. “We tried to remove it, but its defenses were too strong.”

“So you’re stuck with it?” Vibe’s voice had gone shrill with alarm.

“Kinda?” Jaime said cautiously. “But it’s not a bad thing. He’s my friend.”

Vibe shook his head. “How do you live like that?”

“I trust the scarab,” Jaime said automatically. “When I was being controlled by the Reach, he was being controlled to. We were in it together, and neither of us liked it. That trial, that shared experience, brought us closer. I have faith that he can be trusted, and that my friends would help me if anything went wrong.”

Vibe continued to look at Jaime with a mixture of pity and wary alarm in his eyes, but eventually his expression began to soften. “And you . . . you’re ok with that?”

“I am,” Jaime said confidently. There were days when he wasn’t sure, when the weight of what his life had become hit him hard, but for the most part he was alright.

“I could try to get it off for you,” Vibe offered. “It’s vibrating at a specific frequency, like everything else. If I use a counter-frequency I might be able to shut it down.”

For a moment Jaime merely gaped at him. Was it possible? Could Vibe really get the scarab off? He’d worked one miracle already. Could he do this too? Even when no one else could?

_ (“You are expected to give an answer, Jaime Reyes,”) _ said the scarab when Jaime did not speak.  _ (“I would ask that you not answer in the affirmative. This tactic has a higher probability of success than the Dr. Palmer’s method.”) _

“No,” Jaime shook his head, the scarab jerking him out of his thoughts. “A year ago I might have, but now . . . it’s a part of me. I wouldn’t give it up.”

_ (“Nor would I give up our partnership, Jaime Reyes,”) _ piped up the scarab, and Jaime had to smile.

Vibe didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “I don’t think I could ever trust someone that much.”

“I think you’d be surprised how much you can trust someone,” Jaime told him. “If you gave yourself the chance that is.”

Vibe looked down at his hands, but Jaime thought he might have seen something contemplative in his eyes. “Maybe.”

***

Cindy wasn’t entirely sure how a mission had managed to require two shapeshifters and a large white wolf, but somehow when she’d left five days ago it had all made perfect sense. It was getting more surreal looking back on it, and giving her report to Nightwing she could hardly believe it had actually happened. Miss Martian backed her up though, so she could only assume it had not been some elaborate fever dream.

She had just been about to return to the Hall of Justice for a shower when Nightwing called her back.

“Before you head back to the Hall, there’s something you should know,” he told her.

Cindy frowned. “What?” she asked warily.

“While you were away,” he hesitated, as though wondering how to put it, “Vibe was hurt.”

“What?” Cindy demanded. “Hurt how? How bad is-”   
“Bad enough that he consented to stay at the Hall for treatment,” Nightwing said grimly.

Without waiting for him to elaborate Cindy went for the zeta tube. She whirled into the Hall of Justice like a hurricane, scattering Leaguers who’d been in the library and heading for the residential wing a top speed. She barreled past Bart in the living room and Jaime in the hallway as she sprinted for the empty rooms, and flinging the first door open she found Cisco, lying in bed and looking nothing short of exhausted.

“Baby!” she cried, throwing herself onto Cisco and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Ow!” he replied, curling in on himself. Cindy made to climb off him, but his arms came around her, holding her in place. “Gently, my love.”

Cindy awkwardly climbed more fully onto the bed, cuddling into Cisco’s side. He rolled a little, wincing in pain, until they were lying in the bed facing one another. She kissed him, gently, and he tangled his fingers in her hair, and she knew nothing more than that in the world until both of them ran out of breath.

Panting, Cindy lifted up the blankets to reveal the wound in Cisco’s side. It was bigger than she’d feared, a long gash held together with more than a dozen stitches, and it was warm to the touch when she ran her fingers over it.

“Gently,” Cisco repeated, grunting in pain.

She slid her hand up his body to cup his face. “What did you  _ do _ to yourself?”

“I got caught off guard,” he confessed, looking sheepish. “I know it was stupid, but I lost focus and then-”

“Of course it was stupid!” Cindy tugged at his long hair in annoyance. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about you,” Cisco told her, batting his eyelashes at her.

Cindy sighed, then kissed him again. It was impossible to stay mad at him.

“Are we being watched?” Cisco whispered against her lips.

“I don’t think so,” she whispered back. “I only saw Impulse and Blue Beetle in the hallway, and I think Blue will keep Impulse away.”

“Good,” Cisco sat up a little, and Cindy propped her head up on her elbow. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?” she asked warily. He had that serious look in his eye that meant he had a plan. Cindy very rarely liked Cisco’s plans.

Cisco rubbed at his face, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “I need to get out of Opal City.”

“What?” she demanded, sitting up straighter. “Why?”

“The way that Nightwing found me,” Cisco explained. “He talked to . . . to  _ him. _ ”

“You mean . . .” Cindy trailed off, and Cisco nodded.

“I have to disappear,” Cisco insisted. “It’s the only way to be safe, and keep you safe.”

“No!” Cindy protested, grabbing his arm. “I, I don’t want to be safe if it means losing you.”

“Bae,” Cisco took her hand and kissed her fingers softly. “He helped Nightwing find me. He has a plan, and whatever it is he needs me here. I have to go.”

“You can’t let him control your life forever,” Cindy said firmly. “He’s locked up. You gotta stop running from him.”

“I  _ can’t _ ,” Cisco said despairingly. “He’s too dangerous to just forget about babe, I can’t just leave him out of my plans because I’m tired of thinking about him.”

“So that’s it?” Cindy demanded. “We’re breaking up? I’m never gonna see you again?”

“No,” Cisco squeezed her hand, “no that won’t happen. Wally and Bart can still find me, using the speed force, and they’ll call me if they need me. They’ll call me if you need me too.”

Cindy blinked. “You gave two members of the team a way to find you?” she asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” Cisco squirmed. “I mean, I know they won’t abuse it, and it means I can be here if you need me.”

“And what if you need me?” Cindy pressed.

“I promised I’d come to the team if I needed help too,” Cisco told her.

Cindy blinked again. “Seriously?”

“I know it’s not how I usually operate,” Cisco admitted, “but I said I would and I meant it.”

“Well, where are you going to go?” Cindy wondered. “Opal City has the best homeless outreach programs in the country, where are you going to have it as good as you do there?”

Cisco averted his eyes suddenly. “Well . . .”

“Well what?” Cindy frowned.

“I may have, kinda, agreed to take resources from the team,” Cisco said sheepishly.

Cindy was silent for a moment, trying to process what she’d just been told.

“What?” Cisco asked defensively, when the silence had become awkward.

“So, let me get this straight,” Cindy said. “You’re not going to join the team, but you’re going to help them whenever the need you, rely on them to help you,  _ and _ accept resources from them?”

“Yes,” said Cisco firmly, but his expression was confused.

Cindy burst out laughing.

“What?” Cisco asked again, louder this time over Cindy’s giggles. “What is it, what’s so funny?”

“You do realize you’ve joined the team, right?” she asked, still grinning.

“No,” Cisco shook his head, “I’m just going to . . .”

He trailed off, suddenly looking lost. He looked so adorable Cindy had to kiss him, but when she drew back Cisco looked no less confused.

“They tricked you,” Cindy informed him. “You’ve basically joined the team already. All that’s left to do is program you into the zeta tube and decorate your room.”

Cisco shook his head. “But, Thawne-”

“Forget Thawne,” Cindy rolled her eyes. “The Flash took him on  _ by himself _ , you think he can stand against the whole League and the team? If you want to be safe from him  _ this _ is where you want to be.”

“But, his plan-”

“ _ If _ he has some kind of plan,” Cindy began, “and that’s a pretty big if, considering that he’s in prison, what could he possibly do that we couldn’t handle? Let him spring his trap or whatever he’s got up his sleeve. With you here, we’ll be  _ ready. _ ”

Cisco opened his mouth, then closed it again, frowning in consideration. Cindy waited, hope welling up in her chest as Cisco bit his lip. A few moments passed in which Cindy barely breathed at all, and then Cisco gave a deep, weary sigh.

“I guess it’s already been decided,” he said resignedly.

“Yes!” Cindy nearly fell off the bed pumping her fist in the air. Cisco grabbed her and pulled her to him, and she cupped his face to pull him in for a long, slow kiss.

“Ahem,” said a voice from the doorway, making both of them jump. Cindy rolled over and off the bed, standing straight as Nightwing sauntered into the room.

“I guess Blue wasn’t restraining Impulse,” Cindy whispered to Cisco.

“You think?” Cisco said sarcastically, eyeing Nightwing with trepidation.

“I couldn’t help overhearing,” Nightwing said, looking more smug that Cindy could ever remember seeing him, even when Robin had done especially well on a mission. “You got something you wanna talk about, Vibe?”

“Yeah,” Cisco sat up further in bed, until he was able to hunch in on himself shyly. “About that position on the team-”

“It’s yours,” said Nightwing immediately. “You start as soon as you’re better and this will be your room. Don’t worry about informing the League, I’m sure Impulse is taking care of that right now.”

“Awesome!” Cindy clapped.

“Definitely an aster,” Nightwing concurred.

Cisco fell back against the pillows. “Super.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stay tuned for the sequel! "home and family," coming soon to an archive near you!


End file.
